Rubicon
by Amhran Comhrac
Summary: Two years later, the courier is having second thoughts about siding with the NCR. Accidentally stumbling into the manhunt for a disgraced Frumentarius forces her hand. But is it the voice of Mars, or just massive head trauma? Either way, the die is cast.
1. End Of The Road

_New Vegas, Nevada  
November 7, 2284_

The Lucky 38 stood proud, an accusing finger glowing brightly in the darkness of the New Vegas strip. Maria took a breath before rushing in, avoiding the glare of a handful of Omertas sitting outside their dark casino.

It had been like this for over a year.

All the deals worked out with the NCR, carefully written to ensure the strip would remain lit, were abandoned within months of the victory at Hoover Dam. The NCR began drawing off more and more power, trying desperately to fill the insatiable demand out west. New Vegas, resistant to NCR rule, was forced to endure daily brownouts and power rationing.

Sometimes it felt like a punishment of sorts, as much a deliberate political statement as anything else. If the people of New Vegas couldn't drop to their knees and welcome the NCR like the heroes they thought themselves to be, well, the NCR would continue to treat them as nothing more than a means to improve life for the more deserving citizens out west.

Only the Lucky 38 remained lit. She could never tell if it was a courtesy to the woman who handed them the city on a silver platter, or just some odd glitch of House's old generators and power routing that the NCR didn't know how to overide.

Mutely, she stood in the elevator, waiting for the doors to open. Mutely, she rode to the upper levels and stepped out. With an unnecessary nod to the man sleeping in the hall, his battered sniper beret pulled down over his eyes, she walked into the master bedroom.

"Boone's passed out again." A woman with red hair pulled back into a low ponytail walked in a moment behind her. "Found him like that when I got in."

"You shouldn't leave him like that," came the reply as she returned to the hall. "I thought he was just sleeping." Returning to the sniper, she bent over and checked his pulse. It was slow but regular. "Give me a hand, we should flip him over."

Once done, the two women filed back to the master bedroom. "Leaving again, Maria?"

"For a bit," came the reply. "I really can't stand being here these days." Maria tightened the buckles on her leather armor, leaving the spring dress she had been wearing in a pile on the floor.

"The NCR treats you like a queen."

"And everyone else treats me like I'm some kind of new supermutant. NCRkin or something." Sitting down, the younger woman sighed. "I should have told them to go fuck themselves and left House in charge." She smirked. "Maybe I should have left myself in charge…"

Rolling her eyes, the redhead leaned against the doorframe. "Yeah, right," she said. "I'm sure the NCR would have smiled, nodded, and gone on their way." It was not the first time they had discussed this. Not even the first time in a week.

Grimacing, the brunette nodded. "Yeah, I know, Cass, I know…"

"The NCR would have gotten New Vegas one way or another," she went on. "You told them no? Maybe there would be more bloodstains on the Lucky 38 today from when they shot their way in. The NCR wants something, they take it."

"Maybe I should have sided with the Legion," Maria said, not able to keep a straight face in front of Cassidy's reaction. "Yeah, I can just see that." Standing up, she shouldered her pack. "I'm heading out now. Keep an eye on Boone?" Maria glanced at the unconscious man with a look of concern on her face.

"I always do," Cassidy replied.

"By 'keep an eye on' I don't mean 'get drunk with,' you know."

"Hey, you want things done your way, stick around and do them yourself."

Sighing, she shook her head. New Vegas was beginning to feel more and more confining, sticking around wasn't an option. She was as likely to stab the next drug addled tourist on the street as she was to give them directions. "Just don't let him choke in his sleep, then."

"That I think I can manage."

* * *

With the city in the distance, Maria felt a weight lifting from her shoulders. On days like this, with the desert stretching out before her and no one else in sight, she missed being little more than a courier. It had been, in its way, a good life. She never made a fortune, just enough to keep herself fed and supplied, but it was independence. It let her live her life well below the radar of anyone big and powerful. She was unknown, and liked it that way. That was lost when her final delivery ended up throwing her into the middle of the power struggle between House, the NCR, and the Legion.

Well, no, to be fair it wasn't the delivery itself… it was her response. Apparently normal people, when they get shot in the head, have the courtesy and good sense to stay down. They don't claw themselves out from the grave with the help of a passing cowboy robot. They don't get patched up to basically functional condition, albeit with a few new glitches and some missing memories. They certainly don't set out on foot killing anything in their way as they look for revenge.

Behavior like that attracts attention.

_East_, she decided as she walked. There was a rumor of radscorpions to the east, and her antivenom supplies were low. A few of their poison glands might give her enough supplies to make it past the damned cazdores and into the mountains. From there… who knows.

She awoke that night to gunfire. Curled up in the hayloft of an old barn, Maria peeked down over the edge. One of the remnants of the Legion was on the ground floor, oblivious to her presence. His attention was focused instead on half a dozen NCR troops taking shots at him from outside. Crouched behind an upturned table, she could see him reach under a headdress of some kind, looking at his blood-covered hand in the dim lighting. He mumbled something, too quiet for her to hear over the laughter of the western military, and stood, firing off another volley of shots from a 10mm automatic.

The cursing from the NCR side of the fight was much louder. A quick glance showed that their numbers had been reduced by two. After a moments debate one separated from the group, pulling a large weapon off his back.

"Oh, _fuck_ no," Maria mumbled as she realized what their plan was. They wanted to burn the barn with the legionary inside it- and her. She had pulled the ladder up behind her, there was no way down without making herself a target of their, or his, bullets.

Left without time to think of a better plan, she scrambled for her sniper rifle and managed to squeeze off a shot just before the ranger with the incinerator reached a pile of ancient dried hay. The flamer hit the ground, putting some brush alight, instead. Her action was pointless: the flames quickly reached his original target on their own.

The surviving NCR fighters began firing wildly towards the hayloft. It was too dark for them to see her without cateye or goggles, evidently. She could see them, though, thanks to the moon. One shot each and they were down.

Dropping the ladder, the woman made it to the barn floor, already coughing from the smoke. Once on the ground she turned to run, stopping only when an object in the dirt sent her flying. "What the…" Glancing at the cause of her stumble, she recoiled in disgust. It was a dog's head.

Looking closer, she blinked to clear her eyes and groaned. It wasn't just a dog's head… it was a headdress: one made from a dog's head. Turning to look back at the unconscious legionary, a memory surfaced.

_Doesn't this figure_. For a moment she thought about leaving him to die. Would he have done the same? Probably… after all, he was legion. But she would like to think herself better than that, better than _them_. There was a time he had let her live… more than one time, to be honest. Although it wasn't quite the same, in that he just didn't use the opportunity to kill her. It wasn't as though he had taken any direct actions to keep her alive.

Quite a bit had changed since then, too. She hadn't seen him at the final battle, but had no doubt he would have cut her down without hesitation. She would have done the same to him. They weren't at war now, though… although they weren't what one could even call friends… or acquaintances. In fact, there was a very strong possibility he didn't even know her name.

All of these thoughts raced through her mind as she glanced from the pile of dead NCR troops and the frumentarius.

He was creepy as fuck, but he had always treated her with respect. More than… well, more than pretty much anyone who wasn't part of her immediate social circle. He was also currently bleeding into the dirt from at least one bullet in his head, and a couple surface wounds as well. One of the wild shots near the end must have caught him.

The idea of leaving someone to die of a bullet in the head didn't sit right with her… a bullet in the head that hadn't come from one of her guns, at least.

She pushed down unpleasant memories from years before, briefly squeezing her eyes closed in an attempt to stop the images. Mind made up, she cursed again, this time at herself.

Sparing a final glance at the bodies, Maria hooked her hands under his arms. "Well, come on, Vulpes" she said, despite knowing he was well beyond being able to hear her. "Maybe you and me can be brain damage buddies."

* * *

I decided to go back and name chapters after songs. Either something that inspired the chapter, captures the general feeling I was going for, has a fitting title... or, you know, just whatever I happened to be listening to at the time. This one is Jerry Lee Lewis' "End of the Road" (1957)


	2. Pick Me Up on Your Way Down

___New Vegas, Nevada  
November 9, 2284_

_This is, without a doubt, the dumbest thing I have ever done._

He didn't look particularly threatening. Unconscious people rarely did, though. It was what could happen when he woke up that concerned her. The longer she had to think about it, the more this seemed like a disaster in the making.

Shifting in her seat, Maria once again confirmed her gun was loaded, fingertips absentmindedly tracing the engraving. She glanced at the ground, her eyes lingering on his weapon. The light hit the pitted blade of the machete and she shuddered slightly.

_Yep, dumbest thing ever. _

The air underground was cool and dry, only the slightest hint of the punishing sun's heat overhead made it this far down. The abandoned farmhouse had seemed too easy a target last night, when she decided to sleep in the barn instead. That hadn't changed: the basement was a compromise. She certainly couldn't perform surgery in the burned out hulk of the barn… especially not when it was still actually burning.

Part of her was astonished he was even alive. She had picked tons of bullets out of people over the last few years… herself, her friends, even her dog. Medicine had become something of an obsession after nearly dying. Maria wanted to make sure she would be able to take care of herself if she was going to keep getting shot at. She'd never had opportunity to heal a head wound, though.

The bullet was a small caliber, and nothing special. No hollow tip, not armor piercing. It entered, didn't go far, and didn't exit. As far as getting shot in the head went, it seemed he got off easy.

The man on the cot stirred. Standing up, she stretched and walked over, wiping his face once more with a damp rag before injecting him with a stimpack. He mumbled something and she leaned closer, one hand on a pistol just in case. "What?"

Coughing, he struggled to open his eyes. "Filth," he repeated, this time more clearly. "Don't use that filth on me."

"What, you want some healing powder?" she asked archly. "You were shot in the head. I don't think broc flower would have done much good." With that she swiftly dosed him with Med-X to knock the man back out while the stimpack did its job. Considering the ethical implications of saving someone's life against their will could wait for when she wasn't thinking about the repercussions of getting in a shootout with the NCR.

* * *

_Nipton, California  
October 26, 2281_

It was only days after being fished from her own grave, on a breakneck trip hoping to catch up with a man who a week's head start. Primm to Nipton to Novac, they had said. It was a route she knew, although not one she liked. _The Asshole of the Mojave,_ Maria had once called Nipton, back when she was nothing more than an ordinary courier. Delivering anything there was uncomfortable at best, what with the slimy mayor always looking like he was mentally undressing her and the 'working girls,' as they called themselves, hitting her up for psycho, buffout, fixer… anything.

Lately it had become far worse, though. Everyone in town had always seemed to be either a hooker or a john… but for some reason their business had picked up dramatically. There was now a whole bunch of patrons hanging around that assumed she was a prostitute as well. Awkward didn't begin to cover the mood when one groped her. _Bloody_ was a far more accurate term.

She could remember her last few trips to Nipton clearly… memory was funny like that. The things she had done in the weeks leading up to the shooting were clear as day. Where she had been who she had talked to, nothing out of the ordinary. A couple trips to Nipton, one to Primm, a few up North where the towns were too tiny to deserve names, but always had them. Usually something stupid, like "Bobstown" or "Frankville" after whoever moved in first. It was a normal week, her normal life.

Anything further out became a lot more hazy, though. She was a courier. She was fairly sure she had been born in the southwest. She remembered seeing a big city once and being impressed… it wasn't New Vegas, though. Was it Vault City? Maybe. She had lived in a white house as a child, with flowers painted on the walls. She could read and write- that was how she got the courier job. It was a rare skill. Someone, somewhere, had even taught her a smattering of Latin and Spanish. Not much. Was she from the NCR, where education was more common? Or maybe from Arizona, then, where Latin was actually used… although not by anyone she wanted to speak with. She didn't know.

She could picture her mother's face: caramel skin, rounded cheeks, and dark eyes. Her skin was rough from work, but always smelled good… like flour and sunshine. She remembered sitting in the kitchen watching her cook, or in the yard as she gardened. She laughed a lot, sometimes so hard her face would turn red and she would double over, pounding her hand on her knee, hair shaking loose with the movement. She was so full of joy.

Was her mother alive? Would she ever see her again? Maria didn't know. Even after hours of staring at the stars, when she should have been sleeping, she hadn't managed to remember her name. There was the hope that the information would come back in time, but she had a sinking feeling it was lost forever. The man in plaid had stolen the memories from her, stolen her mother's name. Yet another thing he would pay for.

Recent memories, though… those were mostly intact. And she had no fond memories of Nipton.

So the plumes of smoke as she approached elicited curiosity, not concern. _Good,_ she had thought, _about time someone burnt this pit down._ It wasn't a nice thing to think, but it was honest. Intercepting an escaped convict as she entered the town made her assume they were responsible.

The crosses were then as unexpected as they were disturbing.

* * *

_Nipton, California  
October 26, 2281_

_Too many green recruits_, he thought, glancing around. "Sir?"

His second in command was looking in the same direction, watching one of their men throw a rock at a crucified gang member. They shared a glance of disgust. "I need scalpels, they send me sledgehammers," Vulpes said, gesturing with disgust. "That is no frumentarius. It never will be." He suspected this was the Legate's doing. Lanius had no respect for him, or for his job. Vulpes would not have been shocked to discover the man was intentionally passing along unsuitable candidates for the frumentarii, if only to discredit Caesar's spies.

The entire Nipton operation had been far messier than he would have liked. Too slow, too sloppy, and _far _too undisciplined. He had even caught men killing townspeople as they entered, in direct defiance of his orders. Those men would _not_ be pleased upon their return to the fort.

All told, they had been here since dawn, and were only now preparing to leave as the sun set.

_Deterrent. _He had tried to explain it once, late at night with Aurelius. This was before Vulpes had been made head of the Frumentarii; before Aurelius became a centurion. They were both only beginning to distinguish themselves. They thought they knew everything, and would spend hours sharing stories and talking about how they would remake the world. It wasn't cruelty for the sake of being cruel. That was a bully. That was, although he would never say so aloud, the style of Legate Lanius. It was about a public demonstration, so others would see and learn to bow before the will of Mars. Surgical, precise. Controlling what happened, and how it would be viewed.

It could, in the end, save lives: both Legion and _potential _Legion, by intimidating communities into surrendering without a fight. "How many die fighting us, when if they only knew more they would gladly join us?" Vulpes had asked him.

Vulpes had come from one of the original tribes, Aurelius reminded him. Of _course_ he saw them as valuable resources. The soon-to-be centurion had been born among the Legion, and considered himself superior to the tribal converts for it. It was a constant source of friction in their otherwise amicable friendship.

Aurelius didn't get it. He shared the Legate's attitude, and thought a fair fight was an open fight. Frustratingly, _no one_ seemed to understand it: no one but Caesar. Certainly not these pathetic excuses for recruits he had been sent.

Despite that, he was proud of their work at Nipton. The lottery was genius… probably one of his finest ideas yet. "Make an example," were the orders from Caesar. He could have simply slaughtered everyone, but that lacked finesse. Vulpes didn't want the NCR to merely know the Legion had arrived. He wanted them _terrified_ of what the Legion could do next. He wanted Nipton to stand as a bright, shining example of their powerlessness against Caesar's might. He wanted the whole of the Mojave to tremble in the face of the Legion.

It wasn't just about force, though. Nipton's punishment would fit their crime. It would demonstrate the moral superiority of the Legion. A victory over the disease of dissolution: addicts, pimps and whores all bent under the boot of the mighty Caesar. The mayor didn't understand. He expected to be rewarded, assumed the legion would be glad to see how easily he turned on both the NCR and the convicts. All Vulpes saw was a dog that would eventually bite any hand that fed him.

He still had hope for others in the town. His standards weren't high- these people were ignorant savages, after all. All he wanted was proof they were better than mere animals. If someone, anyone, managed to meet his expectations, to show some semblance of humanity, he would spare the town. It wasn't what Caesar had ordered, but Vulpes knew his lord well enough to know he would understand. They could be the first Legion settlement in the Mojave- the legion could raise them to prosperity from the pits of dissolution. That, in itself, would be a powerful message.

They disappointed, but did not surprise, him. No one actually tried to fight. No one moved to protect a loved one. No one argued with his proclamation of their crimes. They were no better than brahmin, wide-eyed and mindless. They were worse, since a brahmin at least had the sense to try and back away from the knife at its throat. His own men were, sadly, not much better. It was one thing to take pride in your work, to be happy because you're performing the will of Caesar. To take some sort of perverse pleasure in the actual act of crucifying someone, well… that was not much better than the depravity of the people they punished. Words would be had. He vaguely wondered if anyone in his squad would survive this day, save himself and his second in command.

The 'winner' of his lottery was leaving town. Waiting for him to go, Vulpes glanced around one final time. Was anything forgotten? Anything undone? No. He never left things half finished. They were ready. The survivor was the final piece. He would spread the word. That was, in fact, the only reason he had been left alive and functional. It was a slight fixing of the numbers, true, but the small dishonesty was worth achieving their overall goal. The young man was an imbecile, the sort who would spill the contents of his mind to anyone and everyone. He was perfect. It would be days, maybe hours, before all of New Vegas was discussing Nipton.

A gunshot drew his attention. The lottery winner crumpled, a young woman with dark hair looking down at his body. Of _course,_ he thought, trying not to groan aloud. It wouldn't do for anything to go smoothly today, would it? Without pause, she dropped to root through his pockets, coming up with a handful of ammo and looking rather pleased with herself for it. She began walking towards them, tucking bullets into the various pockets on her leather armor as she moved. The woman was halfway down the street before bothering to look up. He could see her eyes widen, as she went stumbling and stepping back at the sight of the crosses. "Would you get a look at that?" one of the men said, laughing and following it up with a crude comment. Vulpes glared and he fell silent.

She had killed his messenger. He needed _someone_ to spread word of what the Legion had accomplished. It wouldn't do to leave town and simply hope their work was _eventually_ found by someone who just happened to stumble through.

_Mars will provide_, he reminded himself, approaching the woman and trying to see this as an opportunity. She looked as though she was preparing to sprint back the way she came. "Don't worry," he called out, offering a small smile in the hopes of calming her. "I won't have you lashed to a cross like the rest of these degenerates."

* * *

_Thanks to the people who followed, faved, and reviewed. :D  
Title is from Wanda Jackson's Pick Me Up on Your Way Down. (well, a lot of people recorded it. But I was listening to her version)  
_


	3. We All Gotta Go Sometime

_New Vegas, Nevada  
November 9, 2284_

_Pain_.

His eyes wouldn't open. He could feel only agony. _Funny,_ Vulpes thought, _I always assumed pain stopped with death. _He couldn't tell how long it lasted, this rolling wave of misery. Unable to speak, scream, move… it seemed this was his afterlife. He was being punished. _Why?_ He wanted to ask. He had only ever done what was asked. His entire life had been in service of Mars.

And then, without warning or reason, the pain stopped. Eventually, after what felt like hours, or perhaps days, he dared to look. Opening his eyes he was blinded, and forced to blink to clear his blurred vision. The room was dark, a single light source illuminating someone near him. He turned his head, unable to keep himself from gasping aloud.

Grateful to have died in the autumn, he smiled, realizing the reprieve from agony was due to the compassion of Proserpina. Had it been summer, he would have faced only the cold mercies of Pluto. He could see a woman with long dark hair and olive skin not far away, her face in shadow. Apologizing for the lack of a proper sacrifice, Vulpes averted his eyes when she walked over to him; he didn't deserve to look at the queen of the underworld.

She touched his arm and darkness fell once more, this time painless.

* * *

_New Vegas, Nevada  
November 9, 2284_

Maria raised an eyebrow. The frumentarius had woken suddenly, just moments after she had finished the final stitches. Before she could jump up to medicate him again, he managed to turn his head… reopening every single stitch she had so carefully placed. Vulpes looked at her and said something that sounded like "I have no black she-wolf."

_What in the world does that mean?_

She could only hope it was brought on by the colossal amount of drugs pumping through his veins. The idea of having to drag around a gibbering lunatic who had once been a member of the legion seemed unpleasant for all involved. Really, given the choice he probably would have preferred dead in a barn to that. She certainly would. But if she managed to patch him up and that was what woke up at the end of things... Maria figured she was basically stuck with him. Tossing him back into the desert would be cruel. _It might not be bad... maybe it could be like having a kid_, Maria tried to tell herself. _A six foot tall one hundred and sixty pound kid that crucifies people when they try to take his machete away. Well... shit._

When he called stimpacks filth and tried to refuse them the next time he lapsed into brief consciousness Maria almost cheered with relief.

The wolf thing was just _creepy. _Even by the standards she would normally use to judge him.

* * *

_California-Nevada Border  
October 26, 2281_

She was so proud of herself. The urge to run back the way she came, to hide in Goodsprings forever, was overwhelming as soon as the crosses came into view. Maria forced herself to press forward, though. She had to find her attacker. . _I am dead,_ she thought to herself, feeling strangely comforted by the idea. _Nothing can hurt me, since I'm already dead._ _Being shot in the head kills people, so I am dead. _She would keep moving, and when the man in plaid died… well, after that, she could be afraid. Maybe. She had felt enough fear to last a lifetime in the past week.

It was easy to tell herself that when she was walking alone. Not so easy when the man who had apparently been in charge, if his outlandish headgear was any indication, decided to chat with her. She managed to stand still, and actually felt some agreement when he talked about why Nipton deserved to be punished.

The actual method of punishment was more disturbing, though. Hands shaking, Maria scratched at the scab on her head. The man from the Legion's eyes followed her hand, widening slightly when he saw the wound which had been hidden under her hair until that point.

He wanted a reaction. Not knowing what else to do, and worried the 'wrong' answer could get her tossed into a slave pen, Maria shrugged. "They got what they deserved," she told him. "I hated this town." It was apparently the right answer. It was also, if she had been forced to admit it, her true feelings. He nodded and told her to share his 'lesson' with the NCR, and then they left.

It was several hours at a brisk pace outside of town before Maria allowed herself to react.

Crushing her back against a stone outcropping, she pulled her knees up to her chest in an attempt to disappear. _Legion!_ she thought, shaking. _I saw the Legion. Here! _Realizing she was hyperventilating, she stood up, taking slow breaths. Part of her wondered if they were watching, even now… making sure she ran straight for the NCR outpost.

That idea made her spin around, peering into the darkness. All she saw was a gecko heading her way.

Shrieking, she fumbled, nearly dropping the gun Sunny Smiles had given her. It took three tries before Maria could even hit the thing.

Sitting back down, she shoved the dead body away. _Stupid Legion,_ Maria thought. They had her so upset she was nearly killed by a lizard, of all things. No. No, she would not run crying to the NCR for help. She would go to Novac. She would find the man in plaid. She would kill him, slowly and painfully. And then, if she fucking _felt like it_, she would mention the Legion to the NCR. She was not one of their slaves, and would be damned if she would let them order her around as though she was.

Feeling better once that was decided, Maria began poking at the pip-boy on her arm. She hadn't had much opportunity to play with it since leaving Doc Mitchell's place in Goodsprings. She studied the map, examined the medical data, which told her she was thirsty- something she knew, and slightly irradiated- something she hadn't realized until then. Hitting the next button, she couldn't stop herself from exclaiming "Oooh, radio!" aloud.

The horrible afternoon started to fade away once she selected a station, already leaving the memories behind as she listened while flipping through an old-world doctors' magazine. "_I got spurs that jingle jangle jingle," _she sang along, happily pouring over diagrams of wound treatment. Vaguely she wondered what a spur was, and why having noisy ones would be good. It seemed cheerful, though, the idea of jingling while she walked… but, it would probably just attract attention and get her killed. That couldn't happen. Not until the man in plaid was dead.

Finally, Maria unrolled her blankets, satisfied the rock outcropping would be a safe campsite after being undisturbed for so long. Popping a radaway, she curled up and slept. The Legion was, at least for now, completely forgotten.

* * *

_The Mojave  
November 10, 2284_

He was awake. The slight shift of muscles, noticeable only since she had been doing nothing but staring at him for the better part of the evening, gave it away. He didn't want her to know, though. There was a sliver of eye visible, for only a second, through dark lashes. He was trying to evaluate the surroundings as best he could, no doubt. Come up with a plan for escape. She would have done the same. It was the most reasonable course of action.

Of course, that also meant he was planning the best method of attack, if he was anything like her. _That_ had to be cut off before it could start.

"Don't worry, you're safe," she said, holding her pistol on her lap where it wouldn't be as obvious.

He sat up with a groan. "That remains to be seen."

Maria swallowed slightly. She had forgotten just how… impressive his voice was. Remembering who she was dealing with made it easier to focus. "I dug chunks of bullet out of your head and stitched you back up… all so I could shoot you again," she deadpanned. "You've discovered my evil plan. No wonder they called you the brains of the Legion."

He stared at her, not amused. After a brief pause his hand went up, slowly. "I was shot in the head?" Fingertips brushing the stitches, he pulled back quickly.

"I told you that the last time you woke up," she said. "But you were a bit out of it. Mostly because I drugged you." Maria said casually, intentionally not apologizing. "I didn't want you twitching around while I worked. And I needed your pulse slowed down enough that you wouldn't just bleed to death." He didn't say anything to forgive her for using the drugs, but he didn't complain again, either. His hand went up again, this time brushing the stitches with the tips of his fingers, exploring the extent of the damage. "It's surprisingly less fatal than most people assume. You can have the lead bits if you want, they're on the table."

Finally recognizing her in the dim light, he made a face. "Courier. I had suspected." He paused briefly. "You would know about being shot in the head."

"That's me, Nevada's foremost expert on massive brain trauma."

"I remember being cornered by the NCR," he began, words drifting off as he scratched his arm and stared ahead blankly. He was still feeling the effects of the drugs, it seemed. "What?"

Yep, that would be the drugs. _Legion_, she reminded herself. No chems, not even the ones that were just good for patching people up. His system was completely unaccustomed to any of it… he probably hadn't touched med-x in his life. No wonder the man was still looped out on such a small dose. She waved a hand and he blinked, shaking his head briefly before looking at her again, struggling for focus. "They seemed to think starting a fire in the desert was a wise plan. Since I had been trying to sleep in the hayloft up until then… I disagreed." He was intently focused on a small shaft of light coming in through a basement window, eyes wide with amazement. "Over here," she said, snapping her fingers. "Come on back."

He jumped slightly, turning to look at her. "Salvē," he said, sounding confused.

She couldn't help but laugh. He was, without a doubt, high as a cloud. "Yes, hello," she agreed.

Vulpes put his hands to his temples, as though he was trying to will his mind to cooperate. After a moment of silence he took a deep breath, looking up with a thoughtful expression on his face. "I was planning to do the same when they found me. It seemed like less of a target than the farmhouse."

"Well wouldn't that have been awkward. I don't think we're anywhere _near_ having that sort of relationship." She bit her tongue. Her impulse control issues hadn't gotten any better… and apparently now extended to flirting with members of the Legion. Maria considered asking Arcade if he knew of some drugs for that.

"I would have just killed you," he said flatly. The Legion, apparently, doesn't believe in flirting. Or not being utterly horrifying at every possible occasion.

"Well _great_," she said, shifting so he could see the pistol on her lap.

"The situation has changed, clearly my reaction will change with it," he said dismissively, as though it should have been obvious. "I have no intention of killing you, were I even physically capable of such a thing at the moment. I would much rather find out what you want from me."

"What I want?" she blinked dumbly.

"Yes," he said, sounding more sober by the minute. "Is this to be… what? Ransom? Because I'm afraid Caesar Aurelius wouldn't pay you so much as a denarii… and you are likely to be killed for even asking." He seemed to be checking her for a reaction: she likely looked surprised, since that was how she felt. The idea of marching into Legion territory and saying '_hey, I got one of your big shots. Gimmie money if you want him back!' _seemed like a good way to get a machete blade in the back. It was so outside the realm of realistically possible that it hadn't even occurred to her.

Of course, hearing the idea she also immediately had no doubt there were idiots out there that were just dumb enough, overconfident enough, and greedy enough to try it. She liked to think she wasn't any of those things. That was exactly what she told him. He still looked suspicious.

"Will I be a trophy for your friends of the New California Republic, then?" He looked angry at the idea, "since, if that is your plan, I could point out you would have been better off just leaving me to them... and not killing several of them yourself."

"The NCR and I aren't exactly friends these days," she said. "I doubt they even notice it, though."

"Something tells me they will now," he replied.

"Probably." Maria leaned back against the wall. "Maybe I've just got a soft spot for people with massive bullet wounds in their heads. What do they call that? Kinship? Plus, I've always liked an underdog… and you're the most underdoggy guy I know."

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you making fun of me?"

A pause. "Yeah, maybe a bit." He only sighed in response.

"You aren't telling me the full truth," Vulpes said after an uncomfortable silence. "You would not kill multiple NCR troopers and save me just to be _nice_."

"Don't flatter yourself," Maria said, crossing her arms. "I didn't kill them to save you. I killed them to save my own ass when they decided to burn my campsite down. You just happened to benefit as well. And second… why not? I happen to be a very nice person. Ask anyone."

"Why not? Well, because that would be the act of an _idiot_."

"I just performed brain surgery on you," she pointed out. "Can you try to avoid calling me dumb? At least until the wounds heal. From where I _performed_ _brain surgery on you_."

"I fully expect to die at any moment," he said drily. "Just so you know."

"Wow… thanks. So much. Thanks."

"You did make fun of my dog head," he replied. Maria stared agape for a moment, shocked at hearing a member of the legion make what was apparently a joke. "And, for what it may be worth, I have never considered you an idiot… although this entire situation is making me reassess my opinion."

"You're not even grateful? A little bit?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong," he said, folding his legs. "I would certainly prefer being alive to being dead. That doesn't make the larger picture any less important, though. Being able to assess the overall ramifications of an action is what differentiates a good frumentarius from a dead frumentarius. And I am a _very_ good frumentarius. Was… Am…" Vulpes was still scratching his arms, leaving angry red marks from fingernails on pale skin. Maria wondered if she had used a bit too much of the drug. He was nearly _chatty. _

"If you were already dead when I got to the ground," Maria explained, noticing he winced at the word dead, "I would have walked on without a pause. I actually didn't even look for you… I tripped over the dog head. That's the only reason I stopped and saw you were alive."

He was quiet for a long time, contemplating that. She could almost see his mind turning. "So," Vulpes said at last, "It was just… random chance and luck?"

"Yep," she agreed. "That and, well, you might be creepy, but you've always treated me with respect. I've got no reason to kill you, and it just seemed like…I don't know, once I _knew_ you were there and still alive, leaving you to bleed or burn to death wouldn't have been much better than shooting you myself. So I didn't. And here we are."

"All right," Vulpes said eventually.

"All right?"

"All right," he repeated. "It was a passing whim. That is… well, it's _exactly _what I would expect from you. You allow fate to rule your entire existence. Knowing it was an action of pure impulsiveness fits all the data I have on you. I believe you're telling me the truth."

She was silent for a long time. "Am I really like that?"

"Did you really not know?" He looked unconcerned. "You were a person of some importance. Caesar demanded you be given safe passage through the Mojave. That was an unusual request. I thought it wise to study you, form a profile, so we could predict your actions." She was silent, watching him speak. "Unfortunately for me, your actions are almost completely unpredictable. You seem to have no idea what you are doing or where you are going from one moment to the next." If he saw the look of hurt on her face, he either didn't notice or didn't care. He was shrugging off the drugs rapidly, the slight slur dropping from his voice, the scratching slowing down. "From the intelligence I gathered," he went on, "that behavior became far more pronounced after you were shot. It may be related. I suppose I'll have to wait and see if I start meandering aimlessly through the world like a bloatfly."

"Oh," was all she said.

"You did ask," he pointed out.

"I have a profile?" He nodded. "Can I read it?"

"I don't have it anymore." He said. "There isn't much in it, beyond what I told you. I couldn't find _anything_ on your life more than a few months before being shot. Were you from the NCR? We always had difficulty accessing their records in Shady Sands."

"I haven't the faintest idea," she confessed. "Maybe." He only shrugged, clearly not caring. "I _was_ thinking, while you were out." He gestured for her to go on. "I was trying to decide if I was nuts or something. I think I might be… I mean, I fully expect this will somehow end up with me dead. I don't know why I did it…" Maria trailed off, biting her lip. "I guess I wasn't really thinking things through. Just, you know, try not to crucify me as thanks or let somebody enslave me or anything like that."

"I hadn't planned on it," came the response. Maria couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He looked, of all things, offended. When she didn't reply he straightened up, holding up a hand dramatically. "I give you my word, before Mars and the gods, that you will not be harmed for aiding me." He raised a brow as if to ask if she was satisfied.

"Thank you," she replied.

He nodded. "Since there are about a dozen corpses in NCR armor in the dirt outside I feel it would be wise for us to leave and go our separate ways- far from here."

"Agreed." She walked up the stairs first, half-expecting an attack the entire time. Once the adrenaline of being woken up by a gun battle six feet below her bed had worn off, the sheer idiocy of her actions hit her like an angry bighorner. "Well, see you around," Maria told him at the door, not sure what else to say.

"For your sake, I hope you don't," he replied. "Vale… amica." The final word was said hesitantly, as though he was debating it before speaking. Before she could respond, Vulpes was gone.

* * *

.

* * *

_Fun fact: morphine makes people talkative, easily distracted, prone to lapses of unconsciousness, and itchy. This lesson brought to you by Amhran "Not a doctor, just a really screwed up past" Comhrac. Med-X was called morphine until the Aussie censors had puppies over a real drug name being used._  
_Thanks to everyone for reading, adding me to their faves and alerts, and especially reviewing!  
Title from We "All Gotta Go Sometime" by Joe Hill Louis (1953)  
_


	4. I'm Sorry I'm Not Sorry

_New Vegas, Nevada  
November 9, 2284_

"Please tell me you're lying." Her friend Arcade was staring at her with horror. Maria couldn't quite meet his gaze, knowing how completely justified his reaction was… and how much he utterly loathed the Legion. She wasn't even going to tell him, but he caught sight of her walking past the Followers of the Apocalypse clinic where he spent most of his days. His concern wasn't diminished when she assured him the blood covering her wasn't her own, it was only changed into a different sort of worry.

She had to stop telling people "don't worry, it's not my blood."

Maria shook her head, shower-damp hair sticking to her neck. "Nope. All true. All stupid, and all true." She leaned back. "Was he right? Am I impulsive?"

Arcade looked at her with pity. "No! Of course not," he said after a very long pause, immediately taking a drink. "I'm sure your decision to get in a shootout with the NCR and save the life of a war criminal was very well thought out. Like everything else you do."

"Thanks." She rolled her eyes at him across the table.

"Anytime." He adjusted his glasses, removing them briefly. "I'm amazed you really felt it necessary to ask." Something more was coming, though. Arcade never gestured with his glasses unless he had an Important Point to Make. Maria patiently waited for whatever Arcade had to say. "You," he announced finally, "are not allowed to leave here by yourself anymore."

"What?"

He nodded forcefully, stabbing the air with his eyewear. "Let's list, shall we? You decided to go to an old casino all because of a _radio ad, _and ended up kidnapped by some crazy Brotherhood of Steel dropout."

"Yeah, but there was—"

"Not done yet," he cut her off. "Unless you plan to explain why you _shot _all the radios when you got home and then tossed them from an eighteenth story window."

Maria was silent for a moment, hand drifting to her neck. "No, I don't want to talk about that right now." She still had nightmares that involved the sound of the explosive slave collar whenever a radio was too close.

"Fine then," he said with a shrug. "Let's talk about that caravan to Utah you joined on a whim. While I'm not _surprised_ you were the only survivor of an ambush, since killing things is the closest you get to having a hobby, getting pulled into some tribal war in Utah by the boogeyman the Legion uses to scare their recruits was unexpected. I mean, really… the _Burned Man_? How did you even _find_ him?"

Maria shrugged. "I think he kind of found me," she said. "Besides, he's not Legion anymore. He's kind of got that whole repentance thing going. I mean, he's a _shaman _again! I'm pretty sure he wanted me to join his tribe's religion, too."

"What was it?"

She shrugged. "No idea. He said it was pre-war, though. Something about some book. He offered me a copy but I pretended I couldn't read." Maria waved a hand dismissively. The Burned Man had been, all in all, a massive letdown after the way the Legion talked about him. He was _nice_ and all… but really, a person sets certain expectations when they hear about a man who drags himself free after being set on fire and tossed into a canyon. She had hoped he would want to go after the Legion for revenge… something Maria would have happily joined. He seemed more worried about how he might impact the tribes than anything else, though. All in all, very strange.

Thinking on it, Maria wondered if people made similar judgments about her. Getting two bullets in the head and living wasn't exactly _common_. Maybe everyone who met her in New Vegas was disappointed that she wasn't scaling buildings while wearing a belt made out of the scalps of her enemies or something. Probably, she decided. Everyone was disappointed by just about every other aspect of her life, after all. "I don't know," Maria whined finally. "I thought the caravan would be a good way to make some caps. I heard the recording and headed over, it—"

"Seemed like a good idea at the time. Yes, I know. That's what you said when you got home. That's what you _always _say. Maria, you're rich. You don't _need_ caps," he pointed out. She forgot that quite frequently, it was a strange thing to get used to. "You get stuck in Big Empty and come back with a whole lot of new scars and a toaster that, I'm pretty sure, threatened to kill Boone." Arcade paused, adding "that could have been a hallucination of his, though. I can't decide which seems more probable. Your new tendency to set teddy bears on fire is a little more disconcerting, though. While I have a slightly morbid desire to know what happened… I'm hoping you never actually decide to tell me. I suspect I wouldn't sleep at night after knowing why your latest revenge obsession is targeted towards inanimate objects." She shrugged, not knowing how to explain the story without being locked up as a madwoman. "Oh, and you end up in some strange death match with… who was it?"

"Ulysses," she supplied.

"Riiight, him. The former Legion spy and courier who had a vendetta all because of something you didn't even know happened."

She winced at the litany of irresponsibility. "I… well, I might have known, back before. I'm kinda hazy on anything more than a few months before I got shot. But that turned out OK. I got a new coat. He isn't tormented by revenge fantasies anymore."

"Because you killed him!"

"No shit I killed him!" she snapped. "What, should I have invited him over for tea after he tried to kill me? The guy had been chasing me all over the place. It was him or me."

"Regardless," Arcade said. "You went to the Divide. Not before you got shot… you went _recently. _That is… well, if there was a word that meant _extra_-insane, that wouldn't even be strong enough. _No one_ goes to the Divide. Not willingly, at least."

"Sorry," she said, looking at the table.

"Don't just say _sorry,"_ he exclaimed. "Stop acting crazy! Think before you do things!"

"Sorry," she said again and then, realizing that was just what he said not to do, repeated herself once more. "I'm going to shut up now," Maria finally said.

"And now… you end up performing brain surgery on… who was it? The Butcher? Or that guy with the crazy hat?"

"Which crazy hat?"

"With the red plume?" he said, gesturing above his head to indicate a centurion helmet. "Why, is there another one with a different crazy hat? Do they have a special hat shop or something? Bonnets for Bastards?"

"The Butcher is dead, I killed him back at the Hoover Dam thing."

"I'm amazed you can keep track…"

"Not this again." Arcade was always asking her to try and use diplomacy. Spending ages trying to talk someone into agreeing with her instead of killing her just seemed problematic, though. If they wanted her dead once, they would again. Better to be sure no one would come knocking a week later. "Are you seriously telling me I should have had a nice chat with _The Butcher_? His own _people_ call him that! If the NCR called him that and his own people all called him Lanius, or Legate, or something… well, it could be propaganda. But his own side calls him a butcher. That kind of makes me think the guy is _a fucking butcher!"_

"All right, all right," Arcade held his hands up in supplication, rolling his eyes. "I won't argue about _that_ one."

She relaxed. "I think Aurelius of Phoenix is actually the new Caesar now, Vulpes mentioned a Caesar Aurelius. That was the guy with the plumed helmet." She paused. "I wanted it. He wouldn't give it to me. In hindsight, I probably should have just killed him and taken it."

"Frankly, I'm astonished you didn't," Arcade said. "You've killed people with far less cause than wanting their hat." Maria made a face at him, he just sipped his cola. "So I take it this Vulpes you're suddenly on a first name basis with is the one you managed to piece back together?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, "Vulpes Inculta. He had the dog-head hat."

"You'll have to refresh my memory," Arcade said. "I don't recall a dog hat, although I am certain I would remember something that garish and morbid if I ever saw it."

"The one with the blue eyes," she supplied.

"On the hat?"

"On him," she clarified. "I didn't notice what color the hat's eyes were. I don't think it had eyes." Arcade made a face of disgust. "He's about my age? Maybe a bit older. Thin? Cheekbones?"

"All humans have cheekbones," Arcade pointed out.

"Not like that they don't," she countered. "The… well, remember when that guy showed up outside the Tops to give me the Mark of Caesar, and Cass said he had a voice like pure sex?"

He set his glass down. "I need something stronger than a Nuka-Cola for this." She sighed as he walked to the sideboard, adding a generous slug of whiskey to his glass. "Tell me you didn't save _Legionary __Hot Butt_."

"Wait, what?"

"You don't even remember, do you?" Arcade laughed at her. "That night you and Cass were trying to explain to Veronica why he was sexy. That was what you started calling him. Before going on a long rant about how it wasn't fair that Legion guys didn't look as ugly on the outside as they were on the inside. And then you fell off your chair, threatened to gut one of the Omertas and hang him by his own innards for laughing at you, and we carried you home before you could try and follow through." Arcade sighed. "I can't go there anymore without a pat-down, you know. You really had to pull that switchblade out from your top?"

Maria had no memory of that evening at all. "Was I _drunk_?"

"Maybe," he said. "You were pretty shaken up by the whole thing, _and _you had just lost track of Benny. Hunting him was, pretty much, your only reason for living at the time. Cass made you a drink to calm you down before we all went to Gomorrah for dinner. You were so upset you actually drank it."

"So yes, I was drunk." She felt disgusted. There was something deeply disturbing about such a massive loss of control.

"Oh, did I say _maybe_," Arcade replied. "I meant _beyond any reasonable shadow of a doubt_." He sat back down with his new drink and gave her a sympathetic look. "Look, we all know you have that crazy merciful streak that pops up every once in a while. You did trek all over the state looking for a _canine brain surgeon, _after all." He paused. "I… I think I've figured it out. You just like dogs! _Now_ it makes sense."

"That would explain why I'm friends with you."

"Oh-ho!" he laughed. "Very clever. Especially for a woman of your… reduced capacity," he gestured to his head, making a shooting motion. Arcade leaned across the table, putting his hands over hers dramatically. "You've come so far, really. We're all _very_ proud of you."

"Haha." Maria rolled her eyes, leaning back to put her feet up.

He chuckled, but quickly grew serious once more. "I'd be more concerned about the NCR at this point."

"What about them?"

"You killed several of their people," he pointed out. "They don't like when that happens. It generally isn't the sort of thing someone does when they want to stay friends with a group."

Maria shrugged, unconcerned. "They'll never know it was me. The only survivor isn't likely to tell them… what with being on their most wanted list and all." She paused, suddenly laughing. "_Bonnets for bastards?"_

Arcade looked amused at his own joke. "I missed my calling… maybe I should get a job with Mr. New Vegas writing ad copy," he said.

"I'm picturing Caesar in a bonnet now… something with flowers." She was laughing, having trouble getting the words out. Her hands went to her head, vaguely gesturing.

"Oh god," Arcade said, cracking up. "Ties… under the chin… a little bow!"

Cassidy walked in to the suite's tiny kitchen to see the two of them leaning over the table in hysterics.

"This has to be good," she said, sitting down.

"Caesar…" Arcade began, snorting and unable to finish the statment.

"…Sunday bonnet!" Maria concluded, tears pouring down her face.

The redhead raised an eyebrow. "Yeah… Guess I would have had to be there." As they calmed down Maria attempted to explain the joke to Cass, only to get a shake of the head. "How did this even come up?" she finally asked.

"Maria decided to play brain surgeon for some Legion guy with a dog-head hat," Arcade said with a shrug. Seeing Rose of Sharon Cassidy's horrified expression, he tuned to Maria. "See, it is insane."

"I know," Maria said.

"Dog head…" Cass laughed suddenly. "I know him!" Maria raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, the NCR has posters of him everywhere. "_When you steal NCR equipment, tools, and personal property… you—"_

_"—are his bitch!" _Arcade chimed in, laughing. "I've seen those. I didn't realize that was the same person we saw outside the Tops, though."

Cassidy looked over at Maria, horrified. "Wait sexy-voice legion boy was _Vulpes Inculta?_ For real?"

"You didn't know?"

"No!" Cassidy said. "I would have capped him right there if I did. You have _any idea_ how high the bounty is on him? Even then only Caesar's was higher." She shook her head.

Arcade laughed at the expression of horror on Maria's face. "We were all _so_ broke then…" she said. "And armed to the teeth. It would have been so easy… his weapons were all concealed, too! It takes time to draw those…."

Arcade looked over her head, speaking to Cassidy. "She's regretting not gunning someone down in the street four years ago, even though she saved his life this week? I'm hearing this correctly?"

"Yep," Cassidy called, pouring herself a drink. "You're surprised?"

"Sadly, no," he said. "I was just expecting an entirely different sort of regret. And on that note, I should head out. We've got a handful of patients right now; Julie is probably running herself ragged."

"Tell her I said hi," Maria said. She liked the doctor at the Fort. Julie never asked questions about how she got hurt. Well, she stopped asking, at least.

"Will do," he said as he left.

* * *

_California__  
December 6, 2284_

Vulpes woke up drenched in sweat. His mind was turning around in circles, as it had been for days. There biggest problem with being trained as a spy was that you couldn't simply wake up and _not_ be a spy. If someone whispered, he wanted to listen. If secrets were passed over a campfire, he would hide behind a rock to overhear them. If information was hidden, Vulpes would move the mountains to find it.

It gave him something to do, at least.

He had become reckless… moving closer and closer, for no reason other than to see how far he could press his luck.

Fairly far, it would seem.

Laying in the high grass several days earlier, Vulpes listened to the three NCR soldiers speaking. Two were young, one older. The young men full of bravado, they spoke loudly and with great excitement about their latest assignment. Being asked to join a high profile capture was likely the most exciting thing either had done in their lives… neither looked anywhere near old enough to even be in the NCR now, much less back during the war with the Legion.

Their elder seemed saddened by it, though. "Never would have pegged her for a traitor," he mused. Listening greedily, the Frumentarius was surprised to find he featured heavily in the discussion. It had been a long time since he heard the NCR whisper his name with fear in their voices. He had missed that.

As soon as they were bedding down he bolted away, camping for the night a safe distance back. Sleep didn't come easily, and it didn't last long.

The next day he followed them, being slightly more careful to stay far enough back that he would go unnoticed. He did the same the day after that. The following day he was sick of the knot in his stomach and the voice gnawing away at his mind. Tossing and turning, Vulpes found sleep impossible to achieve.

_She's just some profligate._

_She saved your life._

_I didn't ask for that._

_She could help you now._

_She worked against Caesar._

_You gave your word._

_That isn't what I meant_

_You gave your word._

He pressed his hands to his eyes with a grumble of frustration, unable to stop the litany of reasons why he should abandon all common sense. "I give up," he said aloud. "Fine." _It isn't as though I have so many other things to occupy myself with right now._

Changing quickly out of his nondescript leather armor and into something more suited to the task at hand, Vulpes gathered the few belongings he could call his own. Leaving the empty house, it was a quick jog to the small scout campsite. The man on watch went down far too easily. He didn't even make a sound. The commanding officer was in the larger tent. Vulpes glanced in, taking a peek. He saw gray hair, a ranger helmet not far from the cot.

Rangers made horrible interrogation subjects. It was always time consuming to break them, and a good percentage would pick death before disloyalty… especially the older ones. Vulpes could respect that. Nothing disgusted him more than a coward who would sing away their allegiances at the sight of a straight razor. He crept closer, slitting the man's throat without waking him.

Vulpes suddenly found he had a schedule to keep. It was actually rather nice to have a purpose again, he mused, cleaning his razorblade before tucking it away. He had almost forgotten the feeling.

Going through the man's belongings he grabbed a single holodisk, the same one he had overheard them discussing the previous night. It was a copy, the original was well beyond his reach: likely deep in the NCR already. She would want to see it, though… it was likely she wouldn't believe him until she did.

Finally, he entered the third tent.

The young soldier looked confused when he opened his eyes. "Hello," Vulpes said, looking down at him through black goggles. The man literally growled, struggling against his bonds. "I'm sorry," he said calmly. "I hate to be rude, but I am in _quite_ a rush. I do hope you can answer my questions promptly."

"Fuck you, doghead," the man replied.

Vulpes clucked his tongue in disappointment, stepping closer. Lifting the hammer he had been holding behind his back, it came down once, hard. "That was the wrong answer." The boy- he couldn't think of this squirming child as a man, screamed. "Let's begin again. Hello, my name is Vulpes Inculta, the left hand of the true Caesar." He was pleased to see the boy's eyes go wide with fear at that, but maintained his stern expression. "I do hope you can answer my questions promptly. Every time you refuse, I break another bone." The soldier stared at him mutely, sweat covering his brow. "Excellent. It is nice that we can come together in understanding. Now tell me… where is the courier?"

It was almost an hour later when Vulpes exited the tent, carefully wiping the blade of his machete. It was important to maintain your weapons, rust could ruin an edge.

**_That_**_ is the army who drove us from this place?_ he thought. _Pathetic._

Unrolling a map, it took a moment's consideration of the stars before he went on his way. Freeside was a week away on foot.

* * *

_Although Maria could pass most speech checks that would prevent a fight... she generally doesn't bother. She doesn't hit the evil end of the karma spectrum, but is definitely on the lower side of neutral.  
Thanks to everyone reading. I figured jumping brand new into a fandom this long after the game came out would just be shouting into the ether... so getting hits and reviews on this makes me really happy.  
Title from "I'm Sorry I'm Not Sorry" by Carl Perkins  
_


	5. Wanted Man

_New Vegas, Nevada  
December 13, 2284_

Life continued on as usual in New Vegas. Maria broke into Helios One with Cass one night to tweak the power routing, something that seemed to help make people happy. It gave her something to do, at least. It was a compromise after Cass wanted to go drink and Maria wanted to go get rid of the Fiends camping outside town. Breaking and entering was something they could both enjoy, and Cassidy was good at distracting the idiot that the NCR left in charge of the place.

Although she didn't tell anyone else, people assumed the juice flowing again was her doing. People tended to assume everything out of the ordinary was somehow linked to her. Maria didn't quite know how she felt about that, but at least it got her off the local hate-list, if only for a bit.

Of course, that didn't mean people were any happier with the NCR. They just found new ways to express their displeasure.

She had taken to visiting a secret nightclub in Freeside, located deep in the basements of the King's place. They called it a honky-tonk, which apparently meant a giant dancefloor, a live band, and rivers of illegal untaxed booze. The latter was the sticking point. Since the NCR had moved in the price on alcohol had more than tripled. Import taxes, vice taxes, excise taxes… they had a list as long as her arm to cover their take. While Cass enjoyed taking full advantage of the cheap, albeit likely poisonous, drinks, Maria usually didn't stop dancing long enough to have any. Just as well, between the increased number of people complaining of vision loss at the Followers' clinic, and constantly stepping around Boon in various states of unconsciousness on the floor of the Lucky 38, the idea of being drunk had become more than slightly repulsive.

She wondered how the NCR didn't know about this place, as one of the Chairmen spun her across the floor. It seemed like everyone else did. It had to catch someone's attention when half of the city decided to pour into the Kings' base late at night, all dressed to the nines.

"May I?" someone tapped her dance partner on the shoulder just as the song changed. The man shrugged, passing her off before going to the bar.

"You could have asked _me_," she said as her new partner grabbed her by the hip.

"I think I've already gone to enough trouble tracking you down tonight," said a distinctive and familiar voice. "This is the fourth secret dancehall I've visited." He glanced around, "and easily the most depraved."

She looked at him with surprise. He briefly raised the brim of his hat, pale eyes meeting hers. "Vulp-"

"Vince," he cut her off. "Vince Fox."

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"Of course it is. The kind that isn't at all funny and could likely end with both of our deaths," he had a hand on the small of her back, guiding them clumsily across the floor. Maria began scouting the room for a clear exit. She had a gun in a thigh holster, a switchblade tucked down the front of her dress… maybe she could grab one of them in time. As if on cue, he cleared his throat. "I went to a lot of trouble to find you. I also managed to convince, by which I mean _bribe,_ the band to play something slow so we could speak without being overheard," he said. "Could you at least _pretend_ I don't repulse you? This is like trying to drag an armoire across a dance floor and, to be frank, people are starting to stare."

"Sorry," Maria said, trying to relax, at least until she knew what he wanted. "I'm a bit confused right now. And you reek of booze so bad it's making my eyes burn." She looked at him closely, eyes narrowed. "I swear, if you puke on me—"

"I don't drink," he said, sounding tired. "I splashed some on my tie so no one would _notice_ I wasn't drinking."

"That's a waste of caps," she said. "I never drink. No one cares."

"They _know_ you," he said. "And I quite sure that behavior has been noticed. I generally do my best _not_ to stand out as unusual." He spun her around once, speaking again as they came back together. "I've spent enough time in Freeside to know what is considered normal in this world." He glanced around. "Well, not _this_ world. I believe a couple is fornicating in the corner. And someone is vomiting outside. I also strongly suspect this alcohol is made, in large part, out of Abraxo cleanser. It left bleach spots on my tie. You come here _willingly?"_ For a moment his casual expression slipped, revealing a mixture of horror and disgust. Just as quickly he was smiling at her again, as though they were talking about which casino had the best blackjack dealers.

"I like to dance," she said. "They have the best band. Someone's fucking in the corner? Really?" Maria tried to maneuver him so she could see. "Oh no, Cass. Not him." He sighed and Maria pulled herself back to the moment, realizing she could lecture Cass later… when she forced her to visit the Followers clinic. Her dance partner was a far more pressing concern. "So… what?"

"Pardon?"

"What brings you to Freeside, _Mr. Fox_. What do you want? Why are you here? It can't be good. You didn't come by so I could check your stitches, did you?" She reached up, grabbing his hat, to his surprise. "They can come out now." She blinked, collecting her thoughts. "Wait, what do you mean _both of our deaths_."

"So glad you could join me again where important problems are being discussed," he said with annoyance. Apparently he wasn't bothering with the stone-faced Legion look tonight. "I've learned two things."

"Oh?"

"First, I should never make an oath under the influence of your profligate drugs."

"Probably smart," she agreed. "But does that mean you _do_ plan to crucify me?"

"No, I don't plan to crucify you," he sneered. "What do you think: that I walk around morning, noon and night stringing people up on poles?"

"Well… yeah." She was able to catch an eyeroll before he turned his head, glancing around the room quickly.

"I have no plans to harm you," he said. "I would have said I had no _desire_ to harm you, but every second I spend in this cesspool is rapidly changing my mind."

"So… what's the second thing?" The song changed again, this time slower still. They both froze as couples all around began pressing against each other. "Sorry," she mumbled, pressing against him. "At least there's no steps to remember?"

He didn't comment, but followed suit, wrapping an arm tightly around her waist. "I discovered that the NCR was recording everything on holodisk. They wanted to use images of the rangers bringing me down. It would have been a great propaganda victory… but instead they ended up with shots of you dragging me off to safety after killing their men." He slipped the disk into her hand. Maria looped both arms around his neck, carefully inserting the disk into her pip boy behind his head. Angling her arm so she could see the screen, she froze, hands going numb as a silent slideshow began to play. There was Vulpes, in his full Legion regalia, aiming a gun at the camera, teeth clenched in anger. Another shot of him, blood covering his face and a bright flash of light near the top of the frame making half the image distorted… that would be her in the hayloft. The next shot was obscured by smoke from the fire, but the one after that was clear as day… her, landing on the ground from the hayloft. The angle was lower, at that point the cameraman was dead on the ground. She was looking straight at the camera, though. An image of her kneeling down looking at Vulpes came next, and finally not one but two of Maria dragging him from the burning barn, past the dead body that had been wearing the holocam. The final image was taken in daylight, of someone in ranger gear bending over to grab the camera. Motion activated, evidently.

She closed her eyes, unleashing a surprisingly quiet stream of violent profanity. He waited for her to finish. Maria couldn't stop herself from glancing around, hoping no one else was close enough to see the images play across her wrist. "Where did you get this?"

"From a group that were to join the mission to capture you here… tonight," he said. "I overheard them on their way to Freeside… and against all common sense decided I should try and find you first." He tried to keep her moving on the floor. "Focus, courier," he said, pinching her waist. She jumped slightly before looking around. "Be glad you're still somewhat famous; the NCR hopes to keep this as quiet as possible. It wouldn't do for the public to know their champion has turned on them so spectacularly, after all."

Maria winced. "So… they're here to arrest me?"

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, almost pitying. "If they do arrest you, it will likely be for a very short time period. What are your feelings on getting another unmarked grave?" She didn't say anything. "Don't delude yourself; I know what happened to even the lowliest members of the Legion they capture. I can't imagine they would be kinder to you."

"I've already had one unmarked grave," she said quietly through clenched teeth. "That's more than enough."

"I expected that would be your reaction," he told her, looking around. "There is an agent here, likely hoping to catch you if you leave alone. Several others are waiting on your route home." He turned them on the dancefloor, leaning closer to her. After a moment Maria realized his head against hers was just so he could examine the room without being obvious. "I stand corrected." Vulpes was speaking very close to her ear, his breath almost tickling. She was grateful that he seemed to have a higher standard of personal hygiene than most of the other Legion members she had encountered… who all seemed to smell faintly of wet dog. "There are _three_ NCR agents in here." He pulled back and inclined his head slightly, first towards a man with a brush cut by the door, a woman standing near the punchbowl, and another man not far from the band. They were all watching as she and Vulpes swayed to the music. "They must be even more upset than I realized."

"Fuck." Seeing them, she knew something was off. They looked… well, they looked like people who were working. They weren't revelers, that's for sure. And they were glaring at her with loathing. "So what are my options," she said, more to herself than him. "I can… shit… hmmm…" she was staring into space, barely moving her feet as he attempted to continue dancing. "Go to… uh…" Her mind was an absolute blank. No escape plans suggested themselves. "Utah?" She briefly wondered if the Burned Man would let her hide out there. He might… if she could make it there in the first place.

"_So_," he said pointedly, pulling her back to reality, "we are going to leave here." Maria waited for him to continue, wondering what _his_ plan was, since it had to be better than her no-plan. "From here, we will go back to a room I have booked at the Atomic Wrangler…"

She pulled back, glaring at him.

"And sneak out via the fire escape while everyone thinks we are… occupied."

"Oh!" she said, realizing he wasn't _actually_ asking her back to his room. Well, not in _that_ way. "That's a good plan!"

"No, it really isn't," he said. "But it was the best I could manage on no notice, with no resources, and no backup." He looked at her. "Incidentally, never glare at me like that again. I don't appreciate it, given that I'm here to help you."

"Sorry," she mumbled. "But… on that subject. Why?"

"Why don't I enjoy receiving the same glare you offer to people just before killing them? I would think that is rather obvious."

"Why are you here?"

"I have explained," he said, sounding like he was talking to a small child. "The NCR is angry. They know you killed their people with your gun. They know you helped me. They really, really don't like me. They plan to—"

She cut him off, looking up so she could see his face. "I'm not an idiot," Maria told him. "All that I get. I want to know why _you_ are here. Why you're helping me. Why help some… what is it, profligate woman?"

"You're more… a dissolute," he said, sounding like it was a painful fact to admit. "And I am here because I gave you my word. I realize you're accustomed to associating with the drunken and depraved, so it may mean nothing to you. Where I come from, though, a man who values his honor takes that seriously."

Maria glanced around the room once more, at the three he had identified as NCR agents. One seemed to be talking to their wrist. That was enough to push her into a quick decision. "All right," she said. "So we just need to look like we're going home together?" He nodded. "I think I can manage that." Biting her lip, she locked eyes with him, lowering her lids. "Tell me a joke," she whispered. It wasn't tough. He was good looking, so long as she forgot who he actually was. He looked confused. "A joke, _Vince_."

"I don't think this is the time for joking," he said.

Maria laughed, head tossed back so her hair brushed his hand, before straightening up. Briefly brushing her cheek against his, she moved to whisper in his ear. "Very funny joke. Are they still watching us?"

"Courier, what are you doing?" he pulled back slightly, tensing up.

"I'm acting like someone dancing with a guy she plans to fuck," Maria said into his ear. "Go along with it, would you?"

"I really dislike you right now," he whispered while gazing into her eyes, just before running a hand through her hair.

"I'll remember that next time you get shot and just leave your corpse for the coyotes," she replied softly, fingertips brushing against his cheek. "So how about it, want to take me home with you?"

"Not in the slightest," he said. "Let's go."

Once outside they managed a decent imitation of drunken lovers stumbling home… mostly since their gaits were so wildly different that they kept careening into each other. There did seem to be far more troops around than usual tonight, but there were more people than usual out on the streets overall. Freeside hadn't been so busy in months, the speakeasy business evidently suited them. Most turned to watch her walk past. _It might just be curiosity, _she told herself. _Not every day you see someone famous all sloppy drunk and hanging off some guy in the street._

"I thought you were just talking about… you know, _you_ not hurting me," she whispered as they stumbled down the block. "Or the Legion."

"That was what I _intended_," he told her. "However, that isn't what I _said_. I said you wouldn't be harmed for aiding me. And damn your profligate drugs, I swore it on Mars himself." He looked over at her, clearly annoyed. "Lucky you."

She wasn't feeling particularly lucky as they tumbled into the Atomic Wrangler. James Garret looked up from behind the counter as they stumbled across the floor, heading for the stairs. He raised an eyebrow, snickering. Maria looked at him, pointed, and said "Fisto."

"I haven't seen a thing," came his quick response, both hands up. She wasn't surprised. Not many people would want to admit they own a personal sexbot.

"Who, or _what_, is a 'fisto,'" Vulpes asked when they were on the stairs.

She snickered. "If you thought Nipton was messed up… well, the Atomic Wrangler puts them to shame, at least in the 'strange and creepy' department."

He was silent for a moment before putting a hand to his forehead. "Curse my imagination…"

"Be glad you didn't meet Beatrix," she said. "Well, unless your type is rotted cowgirls carrying a riding crop. In which case, twenty five caps a tumble."

"As soon as I leave here I am burning everything I wore," he said. At the top of the stairs they started off in different directions. "This way," Vulpes called, and she turned to follow, wondering if her death was waiting at the end of the hall.

_You do realize you're following Caesar's spymaster_, she reminded herself. Apparently Arcade's lecture on recklessness didn't stick. Remembering it was enough to make her hitch up her skirt and remove the pistol she hid against her thigh before going out that evening, though. Tucking it into the belt of her dress, Maria felt better knowing it could be grabbed quickly.

_So what do I know,_ she thought, walking a pace behind him. _I know he's probably one of the most dangerous people in the world. I know he's never raised a finger against me. I know that footage was seen by at least **one** person in the NCR, since they emptied the camera. I know I really, **really** don't want to die or end up in some forgotten NCR prison. _

That tallied, Maria began to consider the things she suspected. She suspected he was, somehow, on the outs with the Legion… and not by his choice. She suspected he _wanted _her with him… that it was more than giving his word. Why, she had no idea. He seemed far more desperate to convince her than someone just fulfilling a promise they never wanted to make, regardless of his big talk of honor. She suspected that he was being honest with her, at least about the big picture.

Once they were in his room he began changing into armor. Maria turned to give him a semblance of privacy… although Vulpes didn't seem to care one way or the other. It was disturbing to realize the only women he had likely spent any time around were slaves. Changing in front of them might have been like changing in front of a brahmin. "Got any extra weapons?" she asked, facing the wall. "All I had on me was a pistol."

"I brought a second machete," he said. Hearing him walking around, she turned. Maria couldn't even pretend to be surprised by his choice of weapon, although she was shocked he would have thought to bring something for her. Knowing he had prepared to arm her made him seem much more trustworthy. But, of course, that could have been exactly why he did it… so she'd let her guard down.

"Fine," Maria said. "I'm better with one than you'd expect."

"I remember," he replied.

"Oh, right…" Caesar had given her a boon, back before the final battle. Back when she was still, ostensibly, hunting for Benny and nothing more. She had no idea why, although he seemed almost proud of himself for offering it to her. The Legion had captured Benny, and allowed her to pick how he would die. Somehow, they knew just what she wanted most in the world… probably because she had crossed the breadth of the Mojave telling anyone who would listen about how she would kill the man in plaid.

At first she had debated shooting him with his own gun, the same one he shot her with. It had a nice symmetry to it. The cruel streak in her said she should just let the legion do what they wanted, knowing it would involve a cross and a slow death. Ultimately, though, the arena won.

Benny had assumed it was to give him a 'fair' death, something with honor. He actually thanked her. _"No,"_ she had told him just as they were being handed weapons. _"It's because I know I'll win. And I want everyone here to see I'm better than you, even though I'm a woman, and even after you shot me in the head."_

He managed to get in one small scrape, across her thigh. She had gotten him just as bad before removing half his arm below the elbow and, while he was screaming, his head. "Sorry, kid," Maria had sneered to his corpse.

Of course Vulpes remembered. He had been standing immediately next to Caesar during the fight. When it was over he wore a small enigmatic smile, barely registering as an expression next to Caesar's blatant look of cold pride. He must have thought the boon was enough to win her to the Legion's side.

It wasn't.

"You look like a raider," Maria finally said, glancing at him.

"Well, that is what I killed for this armor," came the reply. "I thought my normal set would stand out in Freeside, all things considered." He looked her up and down. "I don't think I could say the same to you."

"This is my special 'on the run from the law' party dress. Don't you like it?" She spun once, causing the yellow fabric to flare out around her, before making a face at him. "Just be glad I was wearing dancing shoes instead of heels. Otherwise I wouldn't make it very far." She strapped the machete to her hip with the belt from his slacks, still on the floor, and checked to ensure her gun was loaded. The idea that this was some sort of elaborate setup was still in her mind. "No idea why they didn't gun us down in the street," Maria mused. "I mean, if they know I helped you… and you _are_ you, seeing the two of us together…" Looking at him for a reaction, she was disappointed. Without med-x zooming through his system he could be a closed book. Vulpus was perfectly capable of carrying on a normal conversation with someone, facial expressions and all, but it seemed he could shut that down at will, hiding anything that might resemble an emotion.

"They have no idea what Vulpes Inculta looks like," came the reply, cold and detached. "Dog head. Armor. Tinted goggles. I'm sure you remember." He was examining his own weapons. She watched him check to ensure a 10 millimeter pistol, a shotgun, and then finally a sniper rifle were all loaded. That done, he moved on to knives. Machete, bowie knife, and straight razor each had their edges examined with meticulous precision one at a time before being tucked into various holsters and pockets.

"A machete?" she said. "You're a walking fucking armory! You can't spare something with a bit of range to it?"

"Fine," he sighed, handing her the shotgun. "Are we happy now?"

"Not in the least."

He understood what she meant and nodded. "Good, apparently you're not a total fool." Vulpes was circling the room, making sure nothing had been left behind. "But, as I was saying… you are probably the only person outside the Legion who has seen my face _and_ knows who I really am."

"Huh," was all she said. There were heavy footsteps on the stairs before Maria could comment further. She could hear James Garret telling someone not to disturb the guests. The response sounded… official. It was starting to seem like Vulpes had been telling the truth.

"I believe—"

"Already there," she was tugging on the window frame. As the locked doorhandle jiggled Maria was out and on the fire escape, climbing up to the roof.

"Up?" he said, following her.

"They'll assume we went down," she replied.

"Only because going up leaves us _trapped_," Vulpes pointed out, hauling himself onto the roof.

She gestured for him to be quiet and ducked low, walking to the edge. "Shit," Maria gasped quietly, pointing. There was a ranger at the base of the fire escape, and light glinting off something in the next building. "Snipers? For _me?" _

"Do you _know_ who you are? I'm astonished they don't have half a battalion." He looked smug. "_I_ would have sent more people."

"I'm just one person."

"Yes, one person who has managed to wipe out dozens of people in a single day, sometimes in just hours… completely alone. Because you were _bored._" Staying low, they went to the other side of the building to see the front door was equally covered. "Your body count may actually exceed mine." Her expression must have given away her horror. "I do wonder why, if your opinion of me is so low, you've followed me this far." She didn't reply, and he made a sound of annoyance. "Fine, we can discuss that later; I think there are more pressing issues at hand right now."

She nodded. "Follow me." When he glanced around, unsure, Maria glared. "Look, I'm trusting you. No idea why, but I am. Asking for the same isn't much, is it?" Running in a crouch to the far ledge, she quickly jumped, rolling as she landed on the building next door. Her dress was going to get destroyed regardless, might as well start soon. "I live here, remember," she pointed out, staying low while running to the edge of _that_ building and jumping onto the next. The following building had no roof, she and Vulpes landed on the remains of the second floor. "Here," she said, scrambling over one of the destroyed walls, instead of using the stairs. She didn't know how many people were on the street looking for them. After watching her for a moment, he laced his fingers together, giving her a boost over the high barrier.

Vulpes looked around once he joined her on the street, clearly pleased. A block away from the Old Mormon Fort, and on the other side of a massive wall from the fire escape, they were nowhere near where NCR was hunting. Moving quickly in the dark, they were able to slip out of Freeside unnoticed.

* * *

_Thanks so much for reading! I think this fic is a first for me, in that I actually have... like, a plan. And a plot. And notes. And I'm not just making up the story as I go along. My creative writing professors would be so proud... well, no, probably not. ;)  
Title from Wanted Man by Johnny Cash  
_


	6. Sticks and Stones

_New Vegas, Nevada  
December 14, 2284_

It was nearly dawn. Moving silently, they set a brisk pace away from Freeside and New Vegas. Occasionally one would gesture to the other, pointing a direction out. There was no debate or argument, since neither actually had a goal beyond 'away.' They stayed off, but near, the major roads. Far enough back that they could hide if necessary, but not so far that they would, say, fall off a cliff in the darkness. She had hovered a hand over her pip boy, debating using the light, and decided against it.

_Why am I here? _The question running through Maria's mind like a mantra had only the sound of their footsteps in the dirt to accompany her worries. His were steady, purposeful. The stomp-stomp-stomp of a man accustomed to marching, regardless of terrain and conditions. Hers were stumbling. Thin leather shoes, designed for moving across a dance floor, were of little help when she was moving across the desert. Every rock cut through the soles, every plant scratched her ankles. She might as well have been barefoot.

_This is insane. Why am I here? _She couldn't even imagine Arcade's lecture on acting without thinking when this ended.

Well, _if_ this ended.

Maria had been in trouble before, no doubts there. But now? She couldn't even imagine how much worse it was after running off with one of the last members of the Legion still hiding out in NCR lands.

_Done is done,_ she sighed finally, jogging ahead to keep up with him.

Not long after dawn they spotted the smoke of a dying campfire. Vulpes immediately started changing course to give it a wide birth but Maria held up her hand. Gesturing, she looked over her shoulder at him.

"Vipers," he mouthed, barely speaking. It was the first thing either had said since leaving the city.

She nodded and readied her gun, creeping towards the campfire. He followed after a short hesitation.

The target didn't hear the hammer pull back over their drunken laughter, a blessing. Two were down before the rest realized they weren't alone. The others were too high on slasher to find their weapons in time for a counteroffensive. One man actually ran straight at them, bare handed and howling as though he would rip them apart with his fingers. Vulpes took his head off with a single swing of his machete.

"Was there a point to this?" he asked, voice closer to a normal volume, as they surveyed the bloody camp. "It seems a needless risk."

"Very necessary," she replied, already yanking clothing off one of the women.

He raised an eyebrow. "We killed them… for clothes?"

"Armor," Maria corrected. "First off, I'm wearing bright yellow. It doesn't really _blend in_. Second, it's only… well, I don't know what it's made of, but it wouldn't deflect a bloatfly sting."

"It's cotton," he said after a moment. "It's grown not far from Flagstaff. And I see your point."

He set about gathering up everything in the camp while she struggled into the leather armor behind a nearby rock. There was a gap between the bottoms and her boots, and the top and waist, since the dead woman was shorter than her. But it was better than nothing.

He had bagged all their food and supplies. The chems were in a pile on the ground. She eyed them greedily, biting her lower lip. "Absolutely not," Vulpes said.

"Screw that," she replied, dropping to one knee to gather the drugs.

"I will not tolerate spending time with an addict. You can face the NCR alone." His tone left no room for discussion. She didn't care, though.

"I hate drugs," Maria said. "Only use healing chems. But this stuff is worth a _lot_ of caps. We can sell them for food, water… armor that actually fits me. All sorts of useful things." She held up a dose of psycho, the dual syringes glinting in the firelight. "This? Twenty caps. More if you can charm the trader. And there's… five, no, eight of them."

He didn't look happy and, after a moment, shook his head with a snort. "Fine."

"What?"

Vulpes crossed his arms. "Take them, if you must. I had no idea you were such a hypocrite, though."

"What do you mean?" she stood up, tugging at the ill-fitting armor.

"I loathe chems," he said. "When _I _find some I burn them, ensuring that they can't harm anyone." He was gesturing with one hand, and Maria was suddenly reminded of his 'lesson' in Nipton. "Come to think of it… I also make a point of burning chem dealers as well, usually on top of their stock. You _say _you hate chems, but evidently have no ethical problem with selling them to others."

Maria dropped her hands to her sides, opening her mouth to speak several times. Each time, words didn't quite form. She found, no matter how she twisted her thoughts around, that he was right. It _was _disgustingly hypocritical. Without a word she knelt and opened her pack, removing the psycho, jet and slasher. When she stood back up he nodded, crushing the items under his boot.

"I never looked at it like that," she admitted as they hiked on.

He shrugged slightly, a minor movement of his shoulders she could barely see in the dark. "You're dissolute. You can't help being ignorant."

"Don't start that Legion shit, please," Maria said, groaning.

"Ignorance can be corrected," he went on, stopping when she glared at him.

By midday they had made it to the mountains. "We should stop," Vulpes said, glancing around. "I don't think either of us are fit to take on the cazadores right now."

"I don't even have any anti-venom," Maria said, sitting down under an outcropping of stone he had gestured to, hitting the ground with a sigh of exhaustion. "Shit… I don't have _anything_. Food, water… anything." She stared out at the desert, peering at the distant skyline of New Vegas with her knees pulled up and arms wrapped around her legs. "If it wasn't for those junkies I'd be out here in a ripped up party dress," she sighed. "I loved that dress. People always told me I looked pretty in that dress." He passed her a bottle of water from his own pack without saying anything. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"So really... why?" she asked after a long silence. It was turning into a hot day. "Don't give me some line about your word. You're a _spy_. I'm sure you can lie now and again."

He looked over at her. "The self-serving answer is that I am already on the run from the NCR. Two people can get by easier than one- so long as both can handle themselves in a fight and know how to live off the land. You can do both. The benefits of having a second set of eyes and a second weapon are obvious, but I've also found it is close to impossible to live without sleep, at least occasionally." His hand went up, fingers brushing the stitches still crossing his scalp. "The last time I attempted it, I ended up shot in the head. Getting rest on occasion will help me stay alive, and I have a vested interest in staying alive." He pulled some jerky from his pack, grabbing a handful before passing the bag off to her. "I suppose the other answer is equally self-serving."

She made a noise so he knew she was listening, and hungrily tore into the dried meat.

"I was raised by the Legion," he said. "Caesar himself ensured I was lifted up from the ignorance of tribal barbarism. The virtues of the Legion are all I know. _Firmitas, severitas, et honestas_. Strength, self-control, and honesty. But as a frumentarius I have had to act like a profligate in order to maintain my cover. Drinking, smoking, gambling, _dancing," _he glared at her on the last word. She didn't apologize… it was his idea to hunt her down in a dance hall. "I had to become what I hate. It was… revolting."

"I always sort of wondered if it was fun. Getting to do the stuff Legion guys can't normally do."

"Someone with that point of view would never be trusted as a frumentarius," Vulpes said. He was looking out, towards the rising sun, towards the east. "I will not let myself actually become that man," he said. "I am _better_ than that. Vulpes Inculta isn't some lying profligate. I gave you my word. So… here we are."

Of all the people she would expect to bare their soul, he didn't even make the long list. She wondered if she should say something comforting, it seemed appropriate at the moment. Suddenly, though, the reality of it hit her: there was more to it. He wasn't _lying… _at least, not completely. But the leader of the frumentarii simply wasn't going to spill his guts. Not to her, not to anyone. There was something else going on.

Glancing at him, she tried to read the expression. Impossible. He was ultimately still the Legion's great spy. Everything was for a reason. Everything was under control. She thought of the magicians who sometimes performed at the casinos. They would hold something bright and shiny in one hand so the audience wouldn't notice what the other hand was doing.

Was he rationing out some truths in order to keep others hidden? Maybe. Probably.

_Liar liar,_ she almost said. Instead, though, Maria turned to him, a sympathetic look on her face. "When you say it that way… it does sound rough. I don't think I could manage it."

She would find out the rest, in time. If he didn't know she was looking, well… that would just make discovering the truth much easier.

* * *

_Nevada  
December 19, 2284_

Vulpes sat on watch, occasionally shifting his legs in a futile attempt to get comfortable. The courier was asleep several feet from him. Glancing over, he resisted the urge to say something. She was _pretending_ to be asleep. The movement of her ribcage was all wrong, her shoulders were far too tense. He remained silent, though. Really, it astonished him how simple it was to convince her that he was telling the truth. While it would be nice if she stopped acting like he would turn on her at any moment, but that was likely going to take time.

No wonder she looked more exhausted with each passing day, if she was too worried to actually allow herself rest.

Wandering the Mojave with a woman- a dissolute woman, no less, was strange. He was used to the priestesses in Flagstaff, calm and peaceful, radiating serenity and wisdom. Even the free women of Flagstaff were generally more, well, _feminine_. Not as meek or broken as a slave, but still certainly wise enough to know their place in society.

The first time he woke with a start to the sound of gunfire, Vulpes appreciated just how different she was from a slave or a woman of the Legion territories. "I got this," Maria had said, casually firing off shots at a relaxed pace. "Get some rest, if you can." Glancing over, there was a line of dead bark scorpions ending several yards from their camp. He didn't want to think of what might have happened, were she not there on watch.

His only experience with the dissolute was as Vince Fox, not Vulpes Inculta. The people Vince spoke with were, as a rule, uneducated. Casino hostesses, prostitutes, maids, bodyguards, and drug dealers… these were the spy's stock in trade. He loved the people who had access to, and knew the private information of, the upper crust- without being of the upper crust themselves. The powerful and wealthy had a tendency to view them as little more than furniture, speaking freely, sharing the secrets Vince would eventually charm from their servants.

_That_, more than anything, was what Vulpes knew of the world outside the Legion. This was uncharted waters, even with his experience among the frumentarii.

It was true that being a courier didn't exactly demand a staggering intellect: the only real requirements were the ability to walk and basic literacy. There were many frumentarii among the couriers and, he long suspected, an equal number of NCR operatives. She could very well have been one of the few couriers who actually _was_ just a courier. Despite all that, he never came away with the impression that she was stupid.

She had managed to teach herself enough medicine to save him from what would otherwise be a fatal wound. From what he had seen, that already put her above most of the Mojave, if not in terms of intelligence, then in terms of determination. Of course, it was accompanied by a near-complete inability to hide her emotions, a constant skipping from topic to topic in conversation without logic or reason, and a better than average chance of forgetting anything told to her unless she was forced to repeat it back.

And then there was the temper.

Still, despite those problems- most of which he suspected could be traced back to her head injury- she wasn't an entirely _unpleasant_ companion. Her conversation hinted at an education, referencing geographic and historical facts casually. They had spent an afternoon hiking through the desert, comparing the Brotherhood of Steel and the Followers of the Apocalypse, simply because it was one of the few areas where they had enough overlap of knowledge to carry on a discussion. She enjoyed reading, as he soon learned when she would freeze every time they encountered books, not moving on until the pile had been assessed for anything 'good.' His bag had grown substantially heavier, simply because of how many times she had passed him a text claiming he would enjoy it.

While the reasons _why _she behaved as she did were as much a mystery as ever, he was starting to learn her moods and develop the ability to read her expressions. Vulpes was learning to subtly manipulate her, presenting things as she would want to hear them. It was disturbing, then, to realize that she was doing the same thing to him. Maria would smile and accept the half-truths he offered. The smile never quite matched her normal expression, though. She _knew_ he was hiding something. The question was: why hadn't she called him on it yet?

* * *

_Nevada  
December 2284_

She believed him at this point… at least so far as the NCR knowing she had come to his aid in that firefight. She still didn't know exactly what his motivations were, though, and that kept her nervous.

It was a couple weeks after leaving Freeside when she bolted upright from her bedroll after he leaned too close to her while reaching to feed their small campfire. Taking a breath to calm herself, Maria shifted, moving further away.

"Despite what you may think," he said quietly, "I'm not some sort of monster."

"What?"

He was looking at the fire. "I'm not the monster you seem to think I am," he repeated. "I have no plans to hurt you. I have no _desire_ to hurt you. You are, right now, the closest thing I have to an ally… anywhere." He paused for a moment, sighing. "And if you find that fact horrifying and depressing, just _imagine _how I feel about it. Regardless, though… I would like to think you have nothing to fear from me. Even if I am… what was it you called me? Creepy?" He raised an eyebrow, looking slightly bemused. She was surprised he even remembered that, it was just an offhanded comment.

"Yeah," she said, sitting up, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders to ward off the late night chill.

"Because of Nipton?

"Of course it's because of Nipton," she said. "You were _crucifying people!"_

"You say that as though I enjoyed it."

"You didn't look too broken up about things," she countered.

"What, I should have been sobbing?" he asked. "It wasn't something I enjoyed, but I had a job to do. I fail to see how what I did there any worse than what you did at, say, Vault 3." Maria glanced over at him. She hadn't realized he knew about Vault 3. It had been crowded with members of the Fiends. She killed all of them, from one end to the other.

"I didn't torture," was what she finally said.

He snorted. "That makes you better than me?" Vulpes stretched his legs out, looking at the horizon. "Your victims are no less dead than mine. I use every opportunity to set an example." He glanced over, surprised to see her listening closely, actually interested in what he had to say. For a moment it was like those long-ago nights with his former friend Aurelius. "Something like Nipton… it sends a message. It shows what behaviors the Legion finds unacceptable, and what lengths we will go to punish people. The ultimate goal isn't that everyone will die… that would be absurd. It's that people will stop those behaviors, and realize fighting the Legion is an act of futility."

Maria was silent, considering his words. "So," she eventually said, "you think Nipton was some kind of deterrent? That it would inspire people to just surrender and do what the Legion wanted?"

"Exactly," he said, actually smiling. Vulpes was pleased she understood his goal, even if she didn't agree with his actions. That was more than he could have said about many of his former comrades in the Legion. "One Nipton may prevent… a dozen Vault 3s." Maria winced at that. "Believe me when I say I don't _enjoy_ torturing people. Only an unhealthy and depraved mind would take pleasure from that. What I do is done for the greater good."

"I get what you tried to do," Maria had said slowly, after remaining silent for a long time. He was surprised to realize she actually was thinking about his words. "But," she countered, gesturing with her hand, "it could also make people resist you _more._ Seeing something like Nipton may make the next town assume fighting to the death is better than ending up on a cross- since they never see an example of the Legion doing anything, well, _not_ horrible."

He considered that for a moment, not wanting to admit she had a valid point. Eventually, Vulpes offered a small nod.

"It's all meaningless, though," Maria said eventually, leaning back on her elbows and looking at the sky. Although he could scare her from sleep just by leaning too close, she always seemed comfortable around him while awake. "People will always resist the Legion for the same reason they always have. No woman, anywhere, ever would sign up for that life. _Ever_. And most men would fight just as hard to keep that from happening to the women in their lives. People don't like slavery, and they don't like slavers." She looked over at him. "I would rather die."

He looked annoyed. "Everyone seems fixated on that," Vulpes said. "There is so much more to the Legion, to what Caesar was building, than slavery."

"Yeah, I know," Maria said. "But I only know since I met him. Most people don't have that opportunity. All they see are the guys with the red armor killing people and enslaving women and children. For everyone else in the world slavers are right there with raiders and fiends, they're even worse than chem dealers. No good can even out that much bad."

"You refuse to see the larger picture," he said. "Slavery is only a temporary measure, until the Legion's power is secure and the region is stabilized."

"But it is the _biggest _reason why you can't secure that power," she said. "That's why I wouldn't consider siding with Caesar. Just that. I _agreed_ with him on… well, a lot of things." Vulpes looked slightly surprised at that. "But… you _own_ people. It doesn't matter what you promise. The Legion could swear a future with no more raiders, no crime, freedom from chem fiends, running water in every house, jetpacks for all, and ice cream with every meal- but that isn't going to make someone forget you _own people_. Actual human beings, with fucking slave collars and chains and beatings and rape like some kind of fucking nightmare." Maria realized was sitting up again and gesturing wildly, yelling more than talking.

His face darkened briefly, eyes narrowing in rage, before going completely blank. Maria tensed, knowing no good could come from that. "We could argue with each other for hours," he said calmly, after a moment of silence, "and never reach agreement. Since everything I own is in this bag right now- and I can assure you not a single slave is hiding at the bottom, and since you are in no danger of becoming a slave… I see no point in letting this distract us from the matter at hand."

Maria took a deep breath, closing her eyes and counting backwards from ten. When she still wanted to punch him in the nose, she repeated the process twice more. "All right," she agreed. "We don't need to be screaming at each other."

"_I_ wasn't the one screaming," he said quietly, sounding smug. She narrowed her eyes.

"_Anyways," _Maria went on, ignoring his jab, "yes, what I saw at Nipton has probably… tarnished my opinion of you. You scared the hell out of me, to be honest." She sighed. "I was a courier. I know you know, but _think_ about that. I wasn't some spy pretending to be a courier like Ulysses. I was just a stupid girl who carried packages from one town to another. I get jumped, knocked out, tied up, and _shot in the head_. Not just shot in the head- shot in the head after waking up, so I got to take a real good, long look down the barrel of the gun. Some robot digs me up, I get patched back together, and thrown back out into the world. I can barely string three thoughts together, I can't remember anything from more than a few months earlier, and all I know is I want to find the man who shot me and make him as scared and hurt as I was. And then, what, a week after I open my eyes again I go stumbling into you and your buddies. I was fucking terrified. I thought you'd drag me off as a slave then and there."

He shook his head.

"What?" Maria said. "I know that look." To her surprise, she did. He was either becoming less guarded around her, or she had gotten better at reading his subtle expressions. "That's the 'you think you're smarter than me' look."

"I _am_ smarter than you," he said. "And I have _wildly_ different memories of Nipton," was the response.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I listened to your little speech, gave you the answer I thought you wanted to hear, and ran like hell." She paused. "I was so freaked out I nearly got killed by a stupid lizard just outside town."

_The cat who ate the canary_, she thought, looking at him. She had never seen a real-life canary, but she knew cats… and his expression fit the old saying perfectly. "You stared at one of the crosses and asked me if that hurt. When I told you it was _incredibly_ agonizing, you then wondered aloud if one person could manage to crucify someone on their own."

"I did not!"

"You certainly did," he insisted. "And then mused about if the man in plaid would… _cry like a bitch_." She looked dubious, but he only smiled. "That is the complete truth." Maria opened her mouth, but he spoke first. "Ah, will this be the 'I was just shot in the head' excuse? Since I don't recall wandering the desert acting like a maniac after _I_ was shot in the head."

"Really?" she said, smiling sweetly. "So what do you call all this?" Sweeping her arm out, she gestured to their small campsite.

Vulpes did a double take, before he actually started laughing. "Perhaps you have a point…" he mused after a moment, still smiling. "And…" he added after a long silence, "just to remain honest… I was _trying_ to scare you."

She glared over at him. "What?"

"You killed my messenger!" he exclaimed. "I went through a great deal of trouble to make sure that little idiot lived, since I knew he would tell everyone within a hundred miles about what happened. You shot him in the head."

"Hey now," Maria said, "he was a guy in an escaped convicts' uniform shouting _yeaaaah_ while running straight at me. I had every right to shoot him."

"I don't _fault_ you for it. The gods know I was more than tempted to do the same: he was beyond obnoxious. But it didn't make my need for a messenger any less pressing. You didn't seem the type to run squawking to anyone who would listen- mostly since you seemed completely _insane_, so I thought a bit of fear might nudge you into action."

"It just pissed me off," she said. "That sort of thing doesn't work on me."

"Well, I know that _now_. I was going on what information I had on you from… oh, all of thirty seconds of observation. If I had met you in Nipton already knowing what I do today I would have taken a very different tactic."

"Oh?"

His smile turned into a smirk. "I would have offered to personally help you hunt down and torture Benny, so long as you would stop off at the Mojave outpost and tell the NCR what happened at Nipton first." Vulpes looked over at her, clearly pleased with himself.

She couldn't help but smile back at him. "That… probably would have worked."

"Probably?"

"All right," Maria admitted with a chuckle, "I would have totally agreed to that."

"I know."

* * *

_Poor Vulpes does not know that, in a video game, everyone kills people for their stuff without a karma hit.  
Thanks so much to everyone for reading, and especially everyone who reviews!  
More Wanda Jackson for this title, Sticks and Stones. Been on a big Wanda kick lately.  
_


	7. Mind Your Own Business

_Freeside, Nevada  
January 2285_

"They come by to bug you again?" Cass was sitting on the top bunk in Arcade's tent, legs hanging over the edge. The Followers of the Apocalypse were having a quiet morning, comparatively speaking.

He leaned back in his chair, making a face of frustration. "Yes," Arcade said. "Something doesn't add up, though. They aren't telling me the whole story." The official line, from the NCR, was that the famous courier had been abducted from a party in Freeside by an unknown person, possibly affiliated with the Legion. They were near-frantic to 'save' her. But the whole thing didn't add up. Arcade _knew_ Maria. She wasn't the sort to get kidnapped. She probably had weapons hidden all over herself at that party.

He had even popped over to Camp McCarran and the Mojave Outpost, only to find a lot of new faces. Anyone he might have been able to prod for details, leveraging whatever silly errands he and Maria had helped with years earlier, had long since gone home to the west coast.

"Same," she said. "I don't believe it, though. Something doesn't make sense." She took a drink from a bottle hidden in a brown bag. "He kidnapped her from the middle of the King's party? I call bullshit. She and that guy were all over each other on the dance floor. There was deep, meaningful gazing into each other's eyes, touching hair, you name it." She hopped down, moving to sit on the table by his chair. "I talked to Garret a couple days later- just happened to be in the Wrangler for a drink." Arcade waited for her to go on, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Cass happened to be in the Wrangler for a drink most afternoons. "He thinks the kidnapping story is bullshit, too. Said she was running up the stairs after him- guy wasn't even watching to make sure she followed."

Arcade nodded. He hadn't been at the party, but it seemed like half the city was. While there was no doubt Maria disappeared with a man after they shared a few dances, most people outside the NCR said it just looked like a couple people hooking up for the evening, nothing odd. When Arcade had pointed out that disappearing with some guy to shack up for a couple weeks was _exactly _the sort of behavior he had come to expect of the courier, they didn't even bother acknowledging him. "What did he look like?" Arcade asked.

"Tall," Cass said. "Kind of scrawny, but you know she goes for that. Cheekbones you could slice your wrist on, great ass. He had a hat on, so I didn't see his hair or anything." Arcade stared at her for a moment. Cass's eyes widened. "I wish I had heard his voice…" she said.

"Do you think…"

"Not a doubt," she replied.

Arcade sighed, putting his head in his hands. "Well then," was all he could think to say. "I can't _wait_ to hear how a romantic road trip with a psychotic slaver seemed like a good idea at the time."

Cass bit her lip nervously, taking another deep drink. "I should have kept a closer eye on her," she said finally. "It's my fault."

"She's a grown woman," Arcade said.

"Well, _technically," _the redhead agreed. "Although in a practical sense…"

"Babysitting Maria isn't your responsibility," Arcade said. "We can't watch her every second of the day to make sure she doesn't up and vanish because it seemed exciting at the time." He sighed. "I told her she needed to be more cautious. Went over everything she had done. The Divide, the Sierra Madre trip, that stupid caravan to Utah, everything. She agreed I was right. Promised she would think before acting. Swore it was the end of running off on silly adventures. And the next week she broke into the Sunset Sarsaparilla headquarters, all because some old drifter told her a legend about a treasure. Didn't even stop home first to tell anyone… just drifter to factory, without pause."

Cass groaned. "She went after Festus' treasure? Everyone knows that isn't real."

"She did," Arcade confirmed. "And she found it. Well, she found a massive pile of caps… although I can't see that being much of a treasure _before_ the war." He pushed his glasses up. "We can't _force_ her to act like an adult."

"I get you," she agreed, readying to leave. "She probably can't even help it. Who knows what that bullet did to her brains."

"I suppose we'd have to find someone who knew her before to compare," he said. "But… the only people we ever dug up just knew her as a courier." Arcade looked frustrated. "I suppose we have to wait and see how it goes this time. They still go after the Enclave, and anyone aiding them, and they're all pushing seventy at this point. The Legion is a lot more recent of an enemy, and still a realistic threat. She helped a war criminal escape capture. That isn't small; it isn't something she could charm her way out of. Even if it could be fixed… she ended up running off with him."

"True enough," Cassidy said quietly. Arcade had ties to the Enclave, from his childhood. He suggested asking them for aid when the battle for the dam began. After a long night of talk, though, he and Maria ultimately decided against it. While they would have helped… they would all have been executed by the NCR for thirty year old crimes as soon as the dust settled. "What I want to know, though, is why they're telling us she was kidnapped."

Arcade shook his head. "They've got _posters_ bragging about the Hoover Dam victory with her face on them," he said. "What are they going to say, that she suddenly decided to change sides?"

"Did she?" Cass asked. "It wasn't exactly a political decision."

"I know," he agreed, "but really, no matter how you explain it, that's what this will look like. It isn't as though the NCR can come out and tell people their great champion has spent several years honing the skill and craft of making bad snap decisions into the purest form of poorly thought out art."

Cass nodded in agreement. "So… do we think the NCR knows who she left with?"

"I have no doubt," Arcade said. "I just wonder how they figured it out before we did…"

* * *

_California-Nevada border  
January 2285_

It took more than a month before he stopped calling her courier. They had just taken down a small band of addicts… remnants of the Fiends she hadn't killed in Vault 3, if she had to guess. "Maria, what caliber is your pistol?" he had called out to her while they looted the old gas station the gang had called home.

"Nine millimeter," she responded, not showing her surprise. Up until that point she wondered if he even _knew _her name. He did, of course. He probably knew more about her than she knew about herself, all things considered.

"Good," he said, walking over and giving her a handful of ammunition. "Here."

"Thanks, Vulpes," she replied. It struck her that, until that point, she hadn't actually called him _anything_. Other than when she got angry and called him 'legion boy.' That seemed even worse.

"Of course," he said.

Dragging the corpses out, the two decided it would be a decent place to hole up and rest for a couple days.

The following day Maria sat up on the ancient old mattress, stretching and yawning. She was feeling better than she had since leaving Freeside. With the only door to their small camp rigged with a trap, Vulpes had determined neither of them would need to take a watch. Since he was, by far, the more cautious and paranoid of the pair, Maria was inclined to agree. It would be nice to actually get a full night of rest, instead of only half. He was still asleep across the room, arm flung out off the edge of the mattress, mouth partly open. He looked younger when he was asleep. She kept that opinion to herself.

As they sat on the floor sharing a meal of ancient radiation-preserved beans and some dried brahmin meat, she realized something: he didn't scare her anymore. The night before, Maria had crawled onto her bed, fallen asleep almost immediately, and remained asleep through the night- and much of the morning. She didn't lay tensely with her eyes closed, too nervous to give in to unconsciousness. At some point, he had ceased being Vulpes Inculta, Frumentarii of Caesar's Legion, and become just Vulpes. He had somehow become a person.

"You should see to that cut," he said, gesturing with his fork before beckoning her closer.

"It's nothing," she said, sliding over and holding out her injured arm. "Too shallow to need stitches, and I don't want to waste a stimpack. We don't have many."

"Fiends are disgusting creatures," he said. "The gods only know what sort of filth was on their weapons."

She shrugged, not concerned since the cut had already been cleaned completely, but after a moment slid back over and dug through her pack, removing a bottle of vodka kept for just this purpose. Pouring a small measure over her arm he made a noise of approval, although Maria had no doubt he knew she was humoring him. At some point, it seems, he had started to see her as a person as well.

Good thing, too, since she had no idea how long this little adventure would last. They were, quite literally, wandering aimlessly through the Mojave. If they found resources or a comfortable place to hide out, they would stay for a few days, maybe a week. If they saw NCR they would double back or change directions.

The problem was, neither of them had any idea of where they _could_ go. NCR towns were out… while he might have been able to pass through unnoticed, people knew her face. The Legion controlled areas were out. She didn't know what had happened to Vulpes, but she knew it was bad. Asking him hadn't ended well… he avoided the question, pretended he didn't hear her, acted like she asked something else… it was painfully obvious that he simply wouldn't tell her. Just as well, though: she wouldn't have wanted to go there, anyways. Unfortunately it also cut off all points further east.

"What about Utah?" Maria had suggested. "Graham is still alive… he might let us hide out there for a bit. I get the feeling he's kind of a pushover."

Vulpes didn't look surprised that the Burned Man was living, just at her choice of words. "I honestly can't believe you just called the _Malpais Legate _a pushover. Do you have any idea how many people that man has tortured and killed?"

"Um… a lot?" she shrugged.

"In comparison to him, I'm a priestess."

"Ouch," she said.

"And I should mention, I really don't enjoy being your personal measuring stick for this sort of thing," he added.

"Hey, you made the comparison," Maria pointed out. "And why not Utah? He's not a killer now." She paused. "Well… he does sort of kill tribes that piss off the tribe he's with. And, um, I think he still does the heads on spikes thing. But I'm sure _we_ would probably be fine. Maybe." It was starting to seem like a less viable plan with every word.

"Well," he said, "even if we forget that I've sent _several_ groups of men to Utah with the intention of hunting him down and killing him… there is the matter of his expulsion from the Legion."

She stared at him. "You set the fire, didn't you?" He didn't answer. "Well then… Utah is out." She sighed. "Anywhere that you haven't killed or maimed people?"

"Of course," he said. "But those are all places where _you've _killed and maimed people." He looked pleased by this, smiling at her.

"All right," she said. "So we wander the desert living off barrel cactus and agave until we both drop dead of old age. Good plan. Pass the cactus." She could only yelp in surprise when a barrel cactus fruit smacked her in the forehead.

* * *

_California-Nevada border  
February 2285_

She kept _touching_ him.

Vulpes had no idea what to make of it. There didn't seem to be anything overtly seductive in her behavior, but it was still strange.

When dealing with a roving trader she put a hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear that they were being ripped off. One evening, while they were walking, she poked his arm with a finger before pointing out something on the horizon. Maria had no compunction about simply grabbing him by the arm, or throwing her own arm across his chest, if there was some reason she thought they should stop quickly.

Once, when he said something which evidently displeased her as they walked, she slammed her hip into his with a surprising amount of force. It sent him stumbling, which, in turn, sent her into hysterical laughter.

He really had no idea what to make of it. Slaves _never_ touched a man in the Legion. Well… almost never. While women had touched him over the course of his undercover work, that was most certainly with a different intent. That was something he had long since learned how to read. This was… not the same.

It was closer to the casual, fraternal touches that might pass between friends in the Legion. It had never been uncommon for a man to jokingly punch a friend in the arm, or clap him on the shoulder. To greet each other with a shake of hands. She was not, however, a man of the Legion.

Was this normal behavior among the dissolute?

Thinking on that, he realized what an opportunity he was missing. Vulpes had spent more time outside the Legion than any other member, and even he didn't entirely understand the people of New Vegas and the west. While he could pretend to be one of them, it was all imitation. He had no idea what the motivation behind those copied behaviors actually was.

He could be using this time to try and unlock how they actually thought, to see what inspired them. It might, if he was fortunate, come in useful some day.

That in mind, Vulpes made a point of speaking more than usual after making camp. "What are you reading?" he asked her. She had been uncommonly quiet all evening. He suspected it was due to embarrassment. When he returned from washing up, he found Maria in the cave they had made into a camp, dancing and singing along with the radio on her wrist. _Loudly_. He vaguely wondered what 'Peggy Sue' would think about being immortalized in song hundreds of years after her death.

Maria had gasped when she noticed him, face turning bright pink. After giggling nervously and covering her face with her hands, she complained about him 'sneaking up' on her. Since then she had been quiet, blushing again whenever Vulpes happened to glance in her direction.

He had debated giving her a compliment, since profligate women he interacted with in New Vegas always seemed to like that. Even he realized there was no polite way to phrase 'you're a better dancer when you don't expect someone is about to kill you,' though. The sentiment seemed somehow inappropriate, too; especially since he wasn't entirely comfortable with how long he had stood watching her before she noticed.

It was bizarre behavior, Vulpes reminded himself. He couldn't be faulted for observing madness in action.

"Hm?" she looked up from the book, passing it over to him after a moment. "It's a poem. I've been thinking about it. It's good."

Vulpes scanned the lines. Reaching the end, he reread it once, and then again. "Who wrote this?" he asked, passing it back. The final lines had sent a chill up his spine, causing him to look out at the desert, featureless for miles, only the faintest hint of the New Vegas skyline far in the distance. _Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far away._

"Someone named Shelley," she said. "It's old. Hundreds of years old, even before the war. Good, though. It seems like… now."

"It does," he agreed. "I've never heard of this king, Ozymandias. Are you familiar with him?"

"No," she said. "I think that's sort of the point, though. It's that all empires fall. Everything ends up forgotten."

"Do you believe that?" He found the idea chilling.

"You don't?" she asked. "Look around. We live in the wreck of the last empire. Everything's just… ruins. I've never even seen a new building before."

"There are new buildings in Flagstaff," he said. "Not many, but a few." He paused. "I believe there are some in the major cities of the NCR as well, although that's just what I've seen in intelligence reports. I've never been there personally." He thought about her question. _Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair! _The poem made him think of Caesar, of course. Vulpes wondered if she knew it would, if it was all intentional. She could be as manipulative as any of the frumentarii he had known, so it would not shock him in the least. "Rome," he finally said, deciding to take the bait. "Rome was never forgotten. Rome is rising again."

"Always back to that," she said with a sigh. "Everything has to be about the Legion?" He had given her too much credit, automatically suspecting it was a very subtle attempt at manipulation. She looked disappointed, and he wondered if he hadn't given her enough credit, by assuming a friendly gesture was part of a larger ploy.

He took a sip of water before speaking. "You complain that we live in the ruins of the old world, but reject the one hope for humanity rising above this… corruption and filth. Your NCR wants to return to the old world, the same old world that reduced society to rubble." Vulpes looked at her. "I honestly don't understand the way you people think. It boggles the mind that you would pick depravity over civilization."

She sighed, and moved over to his side of the fire, kneeling directly in front of him. "Please," she said, hands on his upper arms. "Pretty please with sugar and a fucking cherry on top, _enough_ with the Legion shit. Please. I'm begging you here. I think my life is miserable enough without adding a nonstop propaganda soundtrack. Since I swear to you, by all that is good in this world, I will eventually snap and shave your head in your sleep."

He smirked. "You stomp like a deathclaw. I would hear you coming from half a mile away."

Maria let go of his arms, flopping backwards. "I give up," she said. "I guess have to explain it in small words." She raised herself up on one elbow, gesturing with the other hand. "I'm not sure if you noticed, but _my NCR_ and I aren't friends now… I helped your dumb ass not get captured, I shot a bunch of them, and then I ran away when they wanted to arrest me. All of those are _very very _bad things. Just one of those things would make the NCR not like me anymore. All three makes them not like me _three times as much_." He rolled his eyes. "_My NCR_ would probably shoot me in the head, if I hadn't spent four years encouraging the belief that I can't be killed by a shot to the head."

There had been a rumor among some of the fresh recruits, years earlier. They whispered that the woman called the courier wasn't a woman at all… or even a human; that she had to be something else since she couldn't be killed. Knowing she had probably spread stories of her own adventures, if only to bolster that rumor, almost made him laugh aloud.

Maria abruptly sat up, moving over to the other side of the campfire.

"What else?" he finally said, knowing she was holding something back, and that she didn't want to say whatever was on her mind. For Maria not to simply let thoughts fall from her mouth was rare. Vulpes couldn't help but feel slightly anxious about whatever she wanted to say. He made a point of keeping his expression neutral. He could see she was avoiding his gaze, clearly not wanting to ask him whatever was bothering her so suddenly.

She paused before answering, staring at him cautiously. No matter how careful he was about maintaining his expression, a skill he had honed and perfected over many years, Maria seemed to see when he was hiding something.

When she spoke again her voice was surprisingly calm. It was the tone she used on the few occasions she had been forced to pick bullets from him, offering soothing and mindless platitudes as she worked. "If you believe in the Legion so completely… why aren't you there?" Maria finally asked, dark eyes locking on to his. "I really would like to know."

And it was out, the question hanging between them in the night air. It had been hinted at, danced around, implied… but he had feigned ignorance until now. He had no doubt she knew there was some sort of reason, that she knew it wasn't his own choice had occurred to him. But now she finally asked, though, in a way that required an answer, a refusal, or a lie. Vulpes couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Someone had to take the fall," he said quietly, "and Aurelius returned to Flagstaff first."

* * *

_Thanks so much for everyone who has been reading, adding me to their faves and alerts, and especially anyone who reviews!  
__Title- Mind Your Own Business... Hank Williams. (pfft. SENIOR)_  



	8. Goin Back Home

_Sorry if you got a double notification- I was trying to rename the chapter and instead I uploaded it all over again. Oops! Real new chapter in a couple days, though!  
_

* * *

_"Someone had to take the fall."_

"What happened?" she asked quietly, immediately feeling guilty for pressing just to satisfy her curiosity. "You guys don't get exiled for failure you—"

"Get set on fire and tossed in the Grand Canyon?" he supplied. "Yes, I _know_." He was tracing patterns in the dirt with his fingernail. "There is very little for me to tell," Vulpes said. "The campaign for New Vegas was a failure. Someone had to be held responsible. With Caesar and Lanius dead, I was the highest ranked survivor."

"So… what? They just blamed you since everyone who made the actual battle plans was dead?" It seemed a very cold thing to do.

"Don't get me wrong," he said, "that isn't the official explanation. Officially I am on an extended mission to research our next push west. Without backup. Or resources. Or requirements to report back." He raised an eyebrow and Maria nodded, understanding what he was really saying. "But it's the true one. No one in the Legion has any doubt- I was sent away as punishment." Vulpes looked angry. "The campaign for New Vegas was… well, to call it a failure would be kind. With Caesar and the Legate dead, I was the highest-ranking survivor." He offered a grim smile. "My elevated rank is what caused this problem, really. Caesar always kept Lanius and I apart… he wanted to preserve the order of succession, ensure if one of us died at least the other had a better chance to survive. I was at Helios One while everyone else was at Hoover Dam."

"Archimedes?" she said. There was an old world weapon, some space-laser of horrifying power, hidden within the computers of Helios One. Maria had swiftly deactivated it before the NCR who controlled the power plant could discover it existed.

He looked shocked. "You knew about that?"

"I disabled it," she said.

Vulpes laughed. "Of _course_ you did," he said. "Who else would it be? Yes, Archimedes. I was hoping to turn it on the NCR… but found it disabled when I arrived. _Thank you _for that, by the way."

Maria shrugged, not really feeling like she should apologize for taking the space laser from him. It would have fried her, too, after all. "I thought you guys didn't use technology like that," was what she said instead.

"We weren't sure _what _was there," he said with a shrug. "Caesar sent me to find out what it was, and decide if it would aid us. But… the battle ended, I had to sneak past the NCR lines, and by the time I made it home they had long since declared me another casualty. Aurelius had already named himself Caesar, and painted the entire campaign as a failure of leadership."

"He blamed _Caesar?"_ she was shocked. From all Maria knew, Legion beliefs were that he was literally infallible.

"Gods, no," Vulpes said, looking slightly horrified. "He blamed Lanius." He looked at her suddenly, blue eyes alert. "Is it true you killed him?"

"Yeah," Maria admitted.

"Good," Vulpes said after a moment. "He was a brute. He would raze a city as soon as conquer it. With him as Caesar… the legion would be dead in a matter of years." Vulpes looked thoughtful. "He never understood the point of converting people to our beliefs and ideals. He would kill anyone who disagreed. What happens then? Even if he was successful… we would have withered and died. The Legion isn't large enough to maintain the population through new births alone." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I think about home often." Vulpes looked sad. "As I said, the blame was put on Lanius and, when I turned up in Flagstaff alive and well, my name was added to the list."

"They blamed you?" she said, surprised. "You weren't even there!"

"They?" he said, feigning confusion. "No, not _they. _It was my _good friend_ Aurelius who blamed me." Maria looked at him as he spoke. It wasn't politics Vulpes described, it was betrayal. "I only live because Caesar had often told people I was favored by Mars. I don't know if he was being honest, or simply attempting to keep me alive." Vulpes shrugged. "Many were stronger than I am, but few in the legion could be considered _smarter_. Killing me doesn't mean they would have been remotely capable of doing my job, and he needed me living. But, regardless of the reason, even Aurelius isn't such a heathen he was willing to risk angering the gods by killing me, and I'm not such an idiot I would attempt to fight his entire praetorian guard at once by myself. The only option left was leaving." Vulpes took a drink of water. "I certainly don't feel very favored at this moment."

Maria bit her lip. This was it, everything that had been simmering below the surface for months. No wonder he seemed so… _broken_ at times. "I don't believe in your gods," she said finally, "but… I should probably point out that you really ought to be dead several times over at this point. You were shot in the _head_. Surviving that… well, it _has_ to mean something."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" He stared at her, eyes lost.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "It is."

"Does it help?"

There was a long silence. "No," Maria said finally. "But maybe it will someday."

He laughed. "Perhaps it will. Please let me know if it does."

He had the first watch that night. "Maria?" Vulpes said, quiet enough that she wouldn't have heard if she was asleep.

"Hmm?" she replied, also whispering. He was sitting not far from her head.

"Although from me I'm sure it means very little… I am sorry you're miserable."

"It's not your fault," she said. She was lying on her side, knees pulled up, eyes closed. Maria had been was attempting to kick the blanket back over her feet without actually sitting up, and failing. Vulpes leaned over, dropping the cloth into place.

"Actually, it seems it is."

She snorted. "Well, I am annoyed you got in a shootout in my barn… that was my favorite crash spot outside the city. But the rest… eh, you weren't even awake. I make my own decisions."

"I can understand if you regret—"

"No," Maria said, without pause. She actually hadn't thought about it before speaking. Now that it was out, she did consider it. Her answer hadn't changed. Had she known helping him would lead to trouble with the NCR and a life on the run… well, perhaps that would have stopped her then. It was done, though. It was done, and the question now amounted to asking if she wished he had been left to die. Rolling to her back, she opened her eyes and looked over at him, thinking about that. He had a healing scab on one arm from where he stepped between her and a gecko. She had a match on her own arm, from getting clawed after charging, machete in hand and curses spewing from her mouth, when she saw he was hit. The answer was surprisingly easy. "Don't be morbid," she said, smiling at him. He jumped with surprise when she reached out and pinched his leg."If I wanted you dead why would I spend so much time patching you up?"

"It's not _that_ much time," he protested.

"Oh no, of course not," Maria said, clearly disagreeing. "Besides, it actually isn't even that bad. Definitely more exciting than going dancing in Freeside." He looked dubious. "I really just wanted you to stop the Legion-this, Legion-that, everyone's a profligate shit." She made a chattering gesture with her hand and he rolled his eyes. "I'm sure we'll figure out something eventually."

"Perhaps we will," he said, sounding half-lost in thought.

"Aren't you some sort of master spy? Spy us up a nice little town without an NCR or Legion connection. We'll take over. I think I could be an excellent ruler; I'm pretty damn charming. I'll even let you crucify criminals. The really bad ones. Sometimes. Maybe for your birthday."

"How generous of you," he said drily. "No matter… I think my skills are slipping," he said, chuckling. "I'm months out of practice."

"Aw," she replied, making a face of mock-concern. "I'll find someplace you can spy on and terrorize until you're back up to snuff."

Vulpes couldn't help but grin. "What about Shady Sands?"

"That's the spirit!" she laughed, rolling to her back. "Set those sights high! We're probably going to end up killed by the NCR… might as well make it something for the history books." He stared at her, trying to decide if she was trying to make him laugh, or mocking him. "That's what I like about you," Maria went on. "You never give up, no matter how screwed up, violent, and impossible your plan is."

* * *

It was, he decided, a woman's skill. The way she could soften her voice, turn her face into the picture of concern, and suddenly he not only felt he should tell her… he believed telling her would make him feel better.

It was almost enough to forget all those times he had seen her grinning widely while covered in blood, machete in one hand, gun in the other, and dead raiders crumpled at her feet. If forced to pick, Vulpes far preferred that woman. It was more honest than this soft creature made of deceit sitting across the fire from him.

But he told her anyways. And, to his shock, he did feel better. One less secret in his mind, one less worry to hide away. He told her and, to his relief, she actually understood. She might not follow the political dynamics of the Legion's upper echelon, but the situation she grasped easily enough. For a moment he had been worried she would actually hug him. He had no idea how he would respond to something like that.

He felt a sense of relief. Maintaining secrets wasn't easy when your world consisted of one other person.

"Impossible?" he said, looking over at her. Maria made a face at him. "I've come to believe nothing is impossible. After all, I haven't killed you yet."

"So violent," she said, making a clucking noise with her tongue. "Tsk tsk."

"Oh," Vulpes continued, playing along, "speaking of violent… what happened when you went to the Ultra Luxe again?" Pleased with himself, he leaned back on his elbows where he was closer to her eye level. If she was going to make fun of him, he could certainly do the same to her.

"They were cannibals," Maria said. He found it interesting the way she would kill without pause or mercy, but always had some sort of reasoning to make it acceptable. Cannibals, raiders, escaped convicts. They evidently didn't actually count as taking a life. He didn't actually judge, of course. They were all generally people who deserved exactly what came to them. It was amusing to watch her squirm, though.

"You beat thirty people to death with a _cane_," he said. "That is… well, that is brutal by _Legion _standards. Not just Legion standards… it's brutal by _my _standards."

She blushed, but said nothing until he started laughing. "Shut up," Maria mumbled, rolling to her side and pulling the blanket over her head, "I need to sleep before my watch."

"By all means," he said. "Now, if you wave your arm around does that mean you're dreaming of beating people in formal-wear to death?"

* * *

_Freeside, Nevada  
March 2285_

_Arcade-  
Guess who! Looks like you were right about my bad decisions catching up to me… Done is done, though.  
Don't want to say much… just wanted you to know I'm pretty much alive and well. Probably smell like a yao guai, though. Living in caves, all that jazz.  
I'm just trying to lay low for a bit, things got a little too hot in Freeside for my tastes. That, and I look like shit through a sniper scope. Maybe in a few months I'll come back as a blonde, start calling myself Suzy and talking in a Hub accent. HA! Can you even picture it? I'd have an easier time training V to stop muttering in Latin when he's pissed off. Don't think he knows I can understand him. Well, usually. OK, sometimes. If I'm really paying attention. And he's talking slowly. I know the face you're making now, by the way. Stop that.  
Miss you! Give Cass a hug for me. Tell her I'm OK. I'll let you decide what to tell Boone… if he's sober enough to know what happened I can't imagine he'd be happy to know I'm still kicking around. Might be wrong, though. Hope I am. In any case, probably best not to let him know who's got my back out here… _

_ Hugs!  
-M_

"She's gone nuts," Cass said, reading the note. "Dear Dad, having a great time at Camp on the Run from the Law, tell sis I said hi!" Arcade watched the play of emotions across her face: relief, worry, and then finally utter shock.

"Glad I'm not the only one who noticed something odd," he said. "I should say I'm glad she's making the most of things but…" He shook his head. The note had arrived just a day earlier by Mojave Express courier, addressed to 'Doctor Gannon, Followers of the Apocalypse, Old Mormon Fort- Freeside." It was posted near Jacobstown, although he had to assume, or at least hope, she wasn't still anywhere near there. Arcade wondered if "V" knew she had sent the note. Probably not. He would have seen what a dangerous idea it was, if he had an ounce of sanity.

It did answer a lot of questions, though… although new ones were created almost as fast. The NCR had been looking for her, apparently, and she ran to avoid them. He couldn't fault her for that… Arcade didn't think someone who aided a member of the Legion would face a comfortable future in an NCR jail. Even other criminals would hate her for it.

How had Vulpes Inculta ended up in Freeside at the same time, though? Had he come to warn her? _Why?_ The Legion wasn't known for their loyalty to outsiders, it made no sense.

And now, months later, the two were still wandering the Mojave together?

The whole thing was madness.

"Can I see your lighter?" was what Arcade finally said. Cass handed it over without question. He lit the corner of the note, letting it drop to the ground. When it was burnt, he scattered the ashes with the toe of his boot, returning the lighter. "Any thoughts on what to tell Boone?"

Cassidy sighed. "He thinks she was kidnapped by the Legion. Won't believe anything else no matter what I tell him. He's wrecked." The former sniper had sobered up, but paced the floor all day when he wasn't milling around the NCR embassy. Neither had any doubt he was comparing Maria and his late wife. Cassidy voiced a hope that finding out Maria was alive and well could help him, but Arcade worried that discovering she was also voluntarily in the company of a legionary would just make things far worse.

"I'll tiptoe around it," was what she finally said. "Tell him about the shootout, see how that works."

Arcade didn't know how smart that was, but he had no better ideas.

* * *

_ Nevada  
March 2285_

Looking back, Maria had to admit the blame was entirely on themselves.

It was their own overconfidence, really. They had made camp outside, in the shadow of a hill just off the side of the road. Their small fire was just enough to warm some food, and keep predators at bay. It could attract raiders, but ultimately she knew raiders and junkies would look for easier targets once they got a glimpse of the people sitting at the fire. With someone always on watch, and armed, she and Vulpes didn't present the picture of an easy target. Raiders picked easy targets.

That was what Maria thought, at least.

She heard the gunshot before she could hear the laughter. Vulpes was sitting up, already chambering a round in his gun before she even registered they were being attacked. "Which way?" Any semblance of sleep had been brushed away immediately.

"There," Maria pointed, getting her gun ready.

"How's your night vision?" he whispered. They could hear voices, six… eight… she wasn't sure.

"Pretty good," Maria said. "Normal, I guess. Why?"

Without answering he stomped out the remains of their fire, leaving them in darkness. "Look for flashes of light," he whispered. "Aim above, if the light is low, and below if it's high- either way go slightly to the right." She didn't answer- this wasn't new information to her. Above since a low flash indicated a pistol, high was a rifle, and right since most people held their guns in their right hand.

That was exactly what she did with the first muzzle flash. A roar of pain rewarded her. Probably not fatal, but hopefully enough to take someone out of the fight.

They came closer and she could make out silhouettes. It would have to be a cloudy night, of course. As the raiders charged Vulpes dropped his gun to his feet, switching to the machete. She took out the back row as he sliced into anyone that came close to them.

Maria thought they were doing a pretty good job, right up until she got shot.

"Fuck," was all she mumbled, looking at her bloody hand before clamping it back against her side. "Bad. Bad bad."

"What?" Vulpes said, slicing the arm off a screaming junkie, sending a spray of blood into the air.

"Little problem over here," she said, kneeling down, keeping pressure on the wound.

* * *

Vulpes counted two more raiders. One was quickly decapitated.

The last came at him and he kicked out, trying to tune out Maria mumbling next to him, sitting in the dirt. He could think about that in a moment. "I should lash you to a cross," he hissed at the man. The only response was wildly dilated eyes rolling back, and more laughter.

The butt of his machete handle to the temple, and the raider collapsed to the ground like a sack of rags.

Spinning, he dropped to kneel next to Maria. Grabbing her wrist, Vulpes fiddled with the pip boy until the light clicked on. If he had to guess, she was trying to pull her armor free in the dark. "All right," he said, "let's see."

"They shot me."

"I noticed," he said, slicing the leather of her armor open with a straight razor. Looking at the wound, he rocked back on his heels. "I… have no idea what to do," Vulpes admitted. "You'll need to walk me through this."

"OK," she said before going silent. "I… what? I'm cold. Have to fix this."

"Focus, Maria."

She was prodding at the wound with bare fingers, making sounds that caused him to wince. "Stimpack," she mumbled between whimpers of pain. "Medx."

A quick search through her bag revealed a pink dress he had never seen her wear, an aging ladies magazine, with several highly disturbing cover headlines, several books of poetry, and a hat with a ribbon around the crown. Grumbling in annoyance, he tipped it out and found a bag containing a medical text and a handful of basic chems buried deep at the bottom, under a few smooth stones, a handful of drawings, and a dried flower. "Is _any _of this necessary?" he asked.

"_My_ stuff," was her only response. "Got you, fucker," she mumbled, and tossed something to the ground. Vulpes was shocked to see a bloody, half-smashed bullet land on the ground. She had stopped making noise.

"Maria?" Vulpes said, looking over when she didn't answer him. She was staring forward, eyes drifting closed.

Moving faster, Vulpes then began searching the dead raiders. Grimacing, he returned to where she was sitting. "Wake_ up_," he snapped, grabbing her by the head, one hand on either side. With a rough shake, he yelled once more. "Eyes open, _now!"_

She blinked in confusion. "You're being mean."

"Anything but, actually," he said. "Now take a deep breath." Without warning he shoved the end of a jet inhaler into her mouth, holding her nose with one hand and pushing the plunger with the other. She took a sharp breath and started coughing, fighting to pull away.

"Mother_fucker!" _ Maria said as soon as he removed the inhaler, the powerful stimulant hitting her system immediately. "What was that? It smells like shit!"

"That's what they make it from," he said, lining up anything that could be remotely useful.

"Fucking _jet_? You trying to kill me?" Vulpes stared at her. "Oh!" she muttered again, shaking her head with understanding. "I need… stuff. Stimpack. Medx. Vodka or clean water. Vodka is better. I've got a bag, it's brown. There's a red plus sign on the front."

"This one?" He handed her the items. Maria attempted to twist to look at her own leg, dropping a tiny pair of tweezers more than once. "I… huh. Little help?"

"I don't know what to do!" He backed away, horrified. Vulpes was good at causing injuries, not curing them.

"My _hands_ are shaking," she replied. "Goddamn drugs." He took the tweezers and reached for her waist, backing away at the last second. "I'm not going to bite you. Just pick out any small bits of the damn bullet." She muttered something about _puritanical legion idiots_. He ignored her, knowing the drugs also had a tendency to make people aggressive and argumentative.

"All right," he said after a moment. It hadn't been easy; she had winced in pain as he worked, barely suppressing whimpers with every movement of his hand. "What now?"

She was waxy looking; normally olive skin was a disturbing shade of yellow. "Clean it out," she said. "Vodka." He apologized when she screamed in pain, but Maria waved her hand. "Gotta rush," she mumbled. "Too much lost blood. Jet makes you bleed like a stuck brahmin." she asked. "What do you see?" Her skin was noticeably cool to the touch.

"Blood."

"You don't say," she mumbled. "Specifics. What did it hit?" He was surprised she could manage to sound sarcastic while bleeding out from a shot to the torso, but decided to assume it was a good sign.

Vulpes peered into the wound, trying to see what had been injured. "Something… slightly brown?"

"Liver," she said. "Good thing I don't drink."

"Also, I think one of your ribs shattered."

"You think?"

"Well, I assume those white flakes are bits of rib," he replied.

"Probably," she said. "Get me with a stimpack. Right there."

"Right… into the wound?"

"Won't be any worse than the vodka," she lied, hand reaching out and grabbing his arm as he worked. It took him a moment to realize she wasn't trying to make him stop: she just wanted to hold on to someone. "All right, I'm all right. Wow, that stings. Now I remember why I use medx first. OK. Now… another one, outside the wound. Then med-x."

"And then?" He was already passing her the drugs. Looking at the wound, Vulpes could see the damage beginning to slowly repair itself. Her skin had lost some of the greenish tint, now Maria merely looked very, very tired.

"And then I'm going to pass out, probably drool on myself, and likely sleep through the rest of my watch. Sorry. I'll either be just fine tomorrow… or running a fever, which is not fine. Or medx and jet mix really badly and I'll die in my sleep." She offered him a smile. "That happens and I'm haunting your ass. Just so you know."

She hadn't been lying, although Vulpes did manage to get her to drink water before she fell asleep. When she was out he tried to wipe up some of the blood, surprised to see her skin was already healing, a dimpled scar remaining where she had been shot. _I understand the jet, the psycho, the buffout… but why would Caesar ban **this**? _

He couldn't stop checking her breathing. His own hands, still covered in blood, had been shaking since she fell asleep. Vulpes was quite sure she would simply die in her sleep. Several hours passed before he felt confident that Maria's prognosis had been accurate. _You're being absurd,_ he told himself. _This is a minor injury. She could have treated it herself. _That was likely true. It may have been difficult for her to treat, but she would have managed alone. She had survived far more than a single bullet in the side. She had taken care of far more serious injuries, on both of them, in the past. _Why do you care?_ He closed his eyes, not wanting to think about that. The problem was that there were too many answers, most of which were things he would have preferred to forget, or at the very least, leave for another time.

The introspection he was trying so hard to avoid ended up broken by the sound of coughing. Glancing over, he saw one of the raiders struggling to sit up.

Smiling, Vulpes leaned over, making sure Maria was covered by blankets, still breathing, and not bleeding again. He was briefly struck with a feeling of self loathing for this. _Just another dissolute. _After a moment of hesitation, he brushed her dark hair back from her face, resting a hand on her forehead. The temperature seemed normal- or as normal as it would be for someone sleeping in a desert. "It is a shame you won't appreciate this," he said. She mumbled something unintelligible as he pulled his hand away, mouth twitching into a frown in her sleep, and he stood up, walking towards the raider after grabbing something from his own bag. "Now," Vulpes said, smiling at the man, "let's have some fun."

* * *

Maria opened her eyes, wincing at the sun. Sitting up quickly, she began to poke at her side. A scar, but not a bad one. No warmth, no swelling, no bruising. Nothing that would indicate internal bleeding or infection. It would seem Vulpes was better at medicine than he thought, so long as he had a jet-addled maniac to walk him through things. It didn't even hurt anymore, or didn't when compared to the screaming pain in her head which she attributed to the drugs.

Looking around for him, she blinked in surprise. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

Apparently it _was_ possible for just one man to crucify somebody, if the raider hanging from a lightpost on the edge of the road was any indication.

_Was a sign that said 'Legion was here!' too subtle?_

Noticing it was the man who shot her, Maria's annoyance decreased substantially. He managed to look over at her. "Messed with the wrong people, scum," was all she said.

Blinking for a moment, she put a hand to her mouth. Had she just said that? Vulpes' influence, no doubt there.

Still, the man had shot her. It didn't make her want to let him down.

Standing, Maria bent at the waist, forwards and back, turned, and smiled again. Her armor was destroyed, but that was a small price to pay. Wandering out into the day, she could see Vulpes kneeling in the road, shirt off, his back to her. "Mornin—" she began, approaching him. Seeing his back she stopped, almost stumbling as the words caught in her throat. She had thought the scar on her head was bad. It was a freckle compared to the ravaged mess his armor normally concealed. His back looked as though someone had tried to skin him alive- in strips. _What could cause that?_ she wondered, knowing it was rude to stare and not able to help herself anyways. A memory of her one trip to Fortification Hill, Caesar's camp in the Mojave, came back to her. Slaves on the crosses, and even a couple men who looked like they had been legionaries, all had bloody backs. Gasping, it hit her: _they whipped him!_

How could he still be so loyal after _that_? Not only had he been whipped at some point- and brutally, at that, he wasn't even given medical treatment. The odd pits and swells of the scars spoke to no attempts at healing, maybe even infections.

Oblivious to her presence, he bent over, light reflecting off a knife. She could hear a few whispered words of Latin as he lifted something above his head. Seeing the dog… or maybe coyote, in his hands, Maria backed up. As blood poured over his head she retreated back completely.

_I guess the rumors about the Legion sacrificing animals are true, _she thought, sitting down at their blood-covered campsite. Maria pushed that visual away, moving instead to repack her bag. She didn't want to think about why his strange gods were demanding blood today.

Clicking on the radio, Maria tried not to listen to Latin chanting, or the groaning of the raider. She focused on the music instead. _I tried so hard my dear to show that you're my every dream_, some long dead crooner called out. _Yet you're afraid each thing I do is just some evil scheme._

"Domini dilrige nos—"

_Gods… something,_ Maria thought, attempting to translate from the mishmash of Latin and Spanish she had rattling through her mind._ Protect? No. Guide. Gods guide me. _Listening to him pray seemed rude. The best comparison Maria could come up with was that it seemed like peeping at him getting changed. She turned the volume up louder. _A memory from your lonesome past keeps us so far apart. _

_"What?"_

She didn't even have to try and translate that. Arguing with gods… seemed unwise. Although that he felt it _necessary_ to argue with them spoke to a larger problem.

He sounded very put out. It was the same tone he used to when he would ask her to 'please, please turn off that damned radio before a ranger follows the caterwauling to put a bullet through our heads.' It was not the sound of Vulpes in anything resembling a good mood. "Ha! Commune periculum concordiam parit?" he spat out, as though the words were poison. Something about harmony and danger. More Latin followed, too fast for her to understand.

She could hear him walking back a moment later, and clicked the volume on her pip boy higher still, now singing along. "_Why can't I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold cold heart?"_ Maria belted out, hoping it would seem like she had been absorbed in the music and her book. Why she was worried he would find out she overheard, Maria had no idea. If it was a secret he probably wouldn't have kneeled in the middle of the road. Still, it seemed an intensely personal thing, and neither of them had much by the way of privacy. Letting him keep some of his seemed only polite.

Vulpes returned not long after, openly grinning when he saw her sitting up. His argument with Mars, or Janus, or Jupiter or whoever he decided to chat with today apparently resolved. "You're awake! Let's get moving," he said, grabbing her wrists. Pulled to her feet, Maria nearly stumbled into him. Animal blood still covered his hair and shoulders, he had wiped off his face. "I would like to leave. This is a place of death." She pointed at the man on the post. "I _knew_ you wouldn't appreciate it," Vulpes said, "And I should point out he might live for another day, maybe even two if the weather favors him."

"You're… very chipper," she said, preferring not to talk about the man on the post.

"Am I?" he was wiping blood from his hair with one of the raiders' shirts. "Perhaps. I know where we're going, though. Finally. It seems the gods haven't abandoned me after all."

"Where's that?" Maria asked, putting her pack on her shoulders. She would worry about the armor later. None of the raiders had been women, all of their clothes would be too big for her.

"Cottonwood Cove," Vulpes finally said. "Let's go to Cottonwood Cove."

"Sure."

Vulpes looked ready to argue for a moment. "You aren't even going to ask why?"

Maria shrugged. "All right, why?"

"I'm looking for something, it may be there." He paused. "You… don't even care, do you?"

"Should I?" Maria asked. "What else do we have to do? One place is as good as any."

"You aren't curious?"

"Of course I am," she said. "That's why I agreed to go." It seemed as reasonable as any other plan.

"But you didn't ask why?"

"I'm curious about a lot of things… you never explain any of those, though. How is this different?" She made a show of leaning forward, looking attentive. Clapping her hands, Maria grinned, eyes wide. "What are you looking for, Vulpes? Something good? Do tell! Is it fun? Is it _treasure?_" Hopping up and down, she stopped only when he began to chuckle.

"I'm not sure, but it may be there. If I find it, I'll tell you. Otherwise there is no reason for you to concern yourself with it."

"And _that_ is why I didn't bother asking," she said, returning to a more normal posture. "I just get 'don't you worry your pretty little head,' when I do."

"When did I ever say that?"

"It's an old expression," she sighed. "It means you think I'm too dumb to get it." He looked ready to protest and she waved him off. "Fine, all right," she said, making a serious face. "You want to go look for something… but you don't know if it's there… and you don't know what it is?" He didn't respond, but looked slightly abashed. Maria smirked to see it.

"What?"

"I suddenly know how my friend Arcade must feel when he talks to me." He stared at her with confusion. "Don't worry about it. Cottonwood Cove it is. Change is good, and it's been ages since a lakelurk has tried to kill me. Let's get going."

* * *

_Long chapter is long... these two wouldn't shut up.  
Thanks so much to all my readers, especially those adding me to their faves and alerts, and anyone reviewing! I'm so glad people seem to like this story so far, since I'm having a lot of fun writing these two.  
Also, the second bit of Latin is "common danger brings concordance." Although it's translated as harmony a lot since the only people who use the word concordance these days are either crossword fanatics, people with literature degrees, or people translating Latin. ;)  
Title- Goin' Back Home by Rev Horton Heat  
_


	9. Loose Talk

_Nevada  
March 2285_

She was in an extremely cheerful mood. Vulpes found it odd for the two of them to be walking through the desert smiling. What reason did they really have to smile? Apparently in reduced circumstances the smallest things could be a victory.

While he had no idea why Maria was in such a good mood, he could credit his own to finding purpose again. The idea of Cottonwood Cove had come out of nowhere, but seemed ideal. Even if it hadn't, just having _somewhere_ to go that was a destination, an actual target, provided a sense of purpose he hadn't realized was missing.

Until now he hadn't noticed just how much of his mind was focused on looking for a goal. He couldn't be satisfied with roaming the earth. He needed meaning.

The last few months had been interesting, even relaxing, when compared to being a solitary fugitive. Having a… companion? Partner? Friend? He wasn't sure what she was, but because of her, he could actually sleep. That, in itself, was no small thing. He had never realized what a luxury it could be. Not only that, he was remembering what it felt like to go without hunger. Vulpes had been accustomed to getting rations from the Legion. Maria was fairly sound on which plants were safe, mostly because she knew which were medicinal. Medicinal generally implied edible, or so they both hoped. He had decided not to trust her opinion on meat since she wondered aloud if they could cook radscorpions. His own knowledge of such things was rudimentary at best, but Vulpes had to believe deadly venom didn't lend itself to safe food sources, regardless of what some old woman in Primm had told her.

It had brought a new set of complications, though… complications he had not been able to anticipate in advance. Vulpes had been prepared to fight against the urge to treat her as a slave, an inferior of some kind. Thus far, he had managed remarkably well. There were arguments at first, of course, but considering their respective backgrounds, the two had found a harmony of sorts in a remarkably short amount of time.

He had not been prepared, however, for how upsetting it was to see her injured. The previous evening was one such example. Vulpes realized, in hindsight, he had likely overreacted to the point that the situation became far worse. He had not been prepared for the satisfaction he took in seeing her shriek with rage whenever _he_ was injured, even slightly, launching herself at the threat with a fury that would have made even Minerva proud. It made him wonder what the Legion could have gained by turning that sort of power to their advantage, the nearly-blind rage of women. He had observed similar behavior among the tribes they conquered, but assumed it was simply the behavior of savages and the weak: to throw their women into the flames of battle. Now, though, Vulpes had to wonder if those women were fighting because they wanted to- not because they had to. Perhaps there was some feminine instinct to fight when their tribe was endangered? It seemed reasonable; most of the more intelligent beasts did the same when their young or mate were threatened.

But did that mean Maria saw him as 'her' tribe? As her… Vulpes tried to forget the idea as soon as it occurred to him, not even allowing his mind to supply the word. He had certainly not been prepared for how uncomfortable she could make him at times, and having _that _idea in his head wouldn't make things any easier. He would never confuse her for a slave at this point, but there was still no mistaking that she was a woman.

Instinct was a very annoying burden, he thought, watching her hips move as she walked. "Will you tell me what you were _really_ doing?" he asked before long. The curiosity was burning him up, and it was certainly better to talk than stare. She would notice. She _always_ noticed.

"Huh?" she asked, looking over at him, dark eyes shining in the shadows below the wide brim of her cowboy hat. She had been wearing it all day. "_It reminds me of a friend,"_ was what Maria had said. _"She always looked really good in her hat."_ Vulpes had to admit, there was something appealing about it. That and, although he would sooner shoot his own foot than say it aloud, the hat did a fine job of completely covering the scar on her head. It wasn't _horrible_, really… her hair hid it most of the time, unless someone knew it was there. It just made him uncomfortable to see it, it reminded him of the scar running several inches above his left ear; it reminded him of the bullet that nearly killed him.

Vulpes looked over. "Do you _really_ expect me to believe you were playing with your radio?"

"I don't expect you to do anything but make vague threats about the NCR in Latin and occasionally imply I'm somehow immoral or unintelligent," she said.

"When have I said you were immoral?" he asked. The others were likely true.

She looked over at him, smirking. "Last week." He began to protest, but Maria laughed. "If you don't like when I dance, don't watch me. There's a reason I don't play the radio or dance when you're around."

"I wasn't!" She _always_ noticed.

"Of course not," she said, smiling. "So… did you get some religious thing telling you Cottonwood Cove?"

"Not really," he said. "Well, not exactly." He had figured out what she was really doing while playing with her radio. "March is… important," he said. "To Mars."

"Hence the name," Maria replied. "So… that's what you do on a Legion holiday? Kill a dog, mess up your hair?"

"Thank you," he said drily. "Very mature."

"Sorry," she said, not sounding the least bit sincere. "I'm sure it's all very serious and important in a super creepy way."

Vulpes sighed. He didn't know why he wanted her to understand, why he even cared. "Did you know he was a member of the Followers of the Apocalypse," he asked. "Years ago."

"Everyone knows that," Maria replied casually.

Near stumbling, Vulpes gaped at her. "You _knew_? How?"

"He mentioned it to me, but it's common knowledge," she said. "Wait, you were standing right there when he told me!"

Vulpes tried to remember back. "I was…" he agreed after a moment. "I'd forgotten."

Maria smiled conspiratorially, leaning close to him. "Just blame forgetting stuff on getting shot in the head," she whispered theatrically. "It always works for me."

"To that end, I'm surprised _you_ remember."

"You stand out," was all she said in response. He glanced over, wondering what Maria meant by _that. S_he was looking forward, and Vulpes thought he saw a slight flush creeping up her cheeks as she quickly continued talking. "The Followers don't like talking about it, though. It's a big embarrassment for them. Is it supposed to be a secret?"

"Yes!" Vulpes exclaimed. "Outside of his praetorians, Lanius, the Burned Man, myself, and what few men remained from the first tribes, no one knew."

"Except everyone in the world outside the Legion," she said. "Why so hush hush?"

"Caesar didn't want recruits exploring the Followers' ideas," he said. "He worried it would be a corrupting influence." Maria looked dubious. "You know the Followers?"

"Yeah, sure," she said. "Couple friends are members. Arcade been for years, and Veronica joined not long ago. I like them. I thought about joining for a bit. I'm pretty good with medical stuff, and they need people like that. I just…" she shrugged.

"What?"

"I don't think I could pretend to be nice to the drunks and junkies," Maria said. "They're disgusting. They do it to themselves, they don't even try to stay sober. They come in all 'I want to get better, help me help me,' chow down on their free meal, sleep in a free bed, and do the same thing all over again a week later. Half of them try to steal drugs from the supplies while they're there! The doctors waste so much time and supplies on jet freaks and winos when other people need them more. Screw them."

He was surprised by the venom in her voice. "No, I don't believe you could pretend to be nice, either," Vulpes said. "Although I do tend to agree with your line of thought more than the Followers. But, to that end, would you call them warriors?" he asked.

She snorted. "Yeah, that's Arcade to a t. A real warrior." She paused. "Actually, he's not bad when he has to be. Good shot with a plasma pistol."

"Back to my point," Vulpes said, "how would a man trained as nothing more than an academic, a man who couldn't even load a gun, conquer eighty seven tribes?"

"Books?" Maria said. "That's what they say."

He stared at her. "If you have a book that can turn a scholar into a warrior and leader… by all means, please, share it with me. With a dozen copies I could train an army that would conquer the world."

"Check his bookshelf," Maria replied with a shrug.

She was being intentionally obstinate. "Really, Maria, _nothing_ about that strikes you as unusual?" Vulpes demanded. "That a scholar of dead languages could somehow find a book that turned him into an emperor?" He had stopped walking and was staring at her.

"What?" she finally said. "You're telling me you really, honestly think Mars was chatting with him? Seriously?"

"That sounds less realistic than a magic book?" he said. "Caesar moved across Arizona and Utah like a righteous fire. _Nothing_ could stand in his way. What he accomplished should have been impossible."

"Until the NCR," she pointed out.

"Until the NCR," he agreed. "To be fair, though- they had help."

"If your gods can be stopped by a delivery girl with a pistol you might want to look into a new religion," she said. "I hear there's some people worshiping an unexploded bomb up near Montana."

"Don't flatter yourself," Vulpes said. It was a phrase she had used once, and seemed apt. "He had a _cancer_. The NCR's help was Caesar's mortal form slowly dying."

"So why Mars?" she asked. "Why not whats-his-name, Graham's god?"

"What, that old world pacifist tripe?" Vulpes said. "I'd sooner go back to worshiping trees and rocks like a savage. The meek shall inherit the earth?" Vulpes was familiar with the belief, it alternately amused and disgusted him. "If the meek didn't inherit when the world burned two hundred years ago, I can't imagine they will in the future." He shook his head. "Really, that's the problem with those people. They _could_ have claimed the world as their own, used the war to justify their beliefs… it would have been quite easy. But they're _pacifists_. They don't take anything. They don't reach. They don't strive. They don't _grab. _They just wait for something to fall into their lap… and that doesn't happen." She didn't argue, so Vulpes went on. "People followed that god for… what, seven hundred years? Eight?"

"That sounds about right," Maria said. "Since after, well, the fall of Rome." Arcade had given her books about Rome. Maria suspected it was because she talked a little _too_ much about Caesar's philosophy after meeting him. He assumed she didn't know there had been another Rome, ages ago. She had, though. Knowing it didn't make Caesar's ideas any less compelling.

"Right," Vulpes said. "Before that, there were my gods. Not for a few hundred years, but for more than a thousand. The names changed, but the gods were the same. Who is to say that isn't the true belief? It makes far more sense than to see multiple gods, who may or may not have your interests at heart, than to assume a single god is both all-powerful _and_ all-good." He glanced around. "I don't see very much evidence for this all-good deity in the Mojave. Do you?"

"But why worship anything at all?" she asked.

"Because I have seen the power of the gods," Vulpes said. "You were right the other day, I should be dead. Not just the bullet, but… Aurelius should have killed me when I returned to Flagstaff. I should have died when my tribe was conquered. I…" he shook his head.

"What?" Maria asked. Vulpes wasn't planning to speak, until she laid a hand on his arm. His skin burned under her fingers.

"I was going to be crucified," he said. "I disobeyed orders. We were able to gain a strategic advantage because of my actions, but I still defied the centurion above me. I was only a decanus, and even that was a recent promotion. I was scourged and, just before being put on the cross, Caesar himself stepped in. I was saved."

"Did he say why?" Maria asked.

"Because Mars willed it," was what Vulpes told her. The actual story was more complex: Caesar had told him not long after. It was the will of Mars, but Mars didn't simply want Vulpes alive. He wanted Vulpes alive, and among the frumentarii. When he rose through their ranks, Caesar had been pleased, saying it was what Mars had told him would come to pass.

She was quiet for a long time. "That's what happened to your back?" was what Maria finally said.

"Yes," he replied.

"I'm sorry."

He was surprised by her reaction. "I'm not," Vulpes said. "I would have done the same as the centurion in his place. It was nothing less than I deserved." She looked at him dubiously and Vulpes shrugged. "Of course, that's my opinion after several years of perspective. At the time I could have killed him with my bare hands, given the chance."

"So, what, you two became good friends later?" she asked, sarcasm evident in her voice.

"Oh, absolutely," Vulpes said. "And then I had him killed." She looked at him and snickered. "It wasn't _revenge_," he insisted.

"Oh, of course not," Maria said, still grinning.

"Not _entirely_."

"_Now_ we're getting closer to the truth," she said.

Vulpes chuckled. "It honestly wasn't," he said. "Even after I became head of the frumentarii he saw me as the upstart decanus who should have been executed. It undermined my authority." He paused, smiling. "And… I wanted revenge."

"There we go," she said, laughing. He joined in.

* * *

The days were getting warmer. Winter had ended. The average temperatures were slowly creeping from 'uncomfortably hot' to 'did someone just drop another bomb? hot.'

Maria was happy to find Vulpes' mood improved, although she strongly suspected he was trying to convert her to his religion. She did have to admit, his tactic of telling her how logical and reasonable it all was went a lot further than the way Graham just seemed to imply she would eventually come to agree with him.

That, and Graham's god seemed like something of a jerk. Although it would certainly be easier to remember just one than the dozens Vulpes seemed to follow.

She enjoyed listening to him talk when he wasn't talking about the Legion, though. So if Vulpes wanted to ramble about his gods, Maria would gladly smile and nod.

She would need to make a point of stopping at just that, though. _You stand out_, she had said, when he was surprised to be remembered from years ago. While true… it wasn't exactly what she had planned to say. At least she hadn't told him _why_ he stood out. Vulpes seemed surprised enough by her comment, he would likely have taken off running across the desert if she had added it was because he was the best looking man in the entire Legion camp.

_Stop it,_ she told herself. _It's just stupid biology screwing with your brain._ Vulpes was pretty much the only man in her world at the moment. It made sense for her to start acting like a hormonal teenager whenever she got within five feet of him. _You spend all your time with him. It's only because he's young, healthy, and in close proximity. It's entirely chemical. Your body is just trying to fulfill some stupid prehistoric urge to reproduce. It has nothing to do with him being clever, or good looking, or having a nice voice, or an ass you could bounce a cap off of or… **stop it.**_She shook her head, hoping he wasn't looking at her and blushing when she realized he was. The fact remained that, if Vulpes had even the faintest interest in her, she would probably know already- like it or not. There was no secret about what men of the legion did to female slaves.

_Huh_, Maria thought, suddenly feeling slightly repulsed by the man walking at her side. _Now there's a good way to shut those hormones up_.

She immediately felt guilty for the thought. Nothing Vulpes had done or said gave her the impression he would ever force himself on her, or anyone. She would like to think after spending nearly every moment with him for months, that her opinions on his character were fairly accurate.

While Maria felt like she had a good grasp on Vulpes' character, her own had become something of a mystery lately. She wasn't _thrilled_ about finding one of the raiders crucified at the side of the road. However, the best description for her reaction was to say she was slightly annoyed. Annoyed, as though she had opened her eyes to find out Vulpes drank the last Nuka Cola or ate all of their pears. It wasn't even the crucifixion that upset her, if she had to think about it. It was that they could possibly be traced back to the location because of how blatantly _Legion_ the whole thing was. Maria felt like she should have been more outraged over the entire thing.

The man had tried to kill her, though. She wasn't inclined to mercy as far as that went.

"Why are you so cheerful?" he had finally asked as they made camp.

"Because I'm alive," was the only response she could think of. "I got shot, didn't die, and so I'm happy. You're not happy when you survive?"

"No," he admitted. "I'm generally angry when someone tries to kill me. I want revenge."

"So do I," she protested. "Still happy, though." She was brushing her hair out, braiding it to keep it from tangling. "Besides, you took my revenge away."

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"What kind of revenge can _I _get when _you've_ already crucified the person who tried to kill me? I can't top that."

He was quiet. "I wasn't attempting to… _take_ anything away from you," Vulpes said eventually. "I did it for you."

_For me? _ She stared at him, but he was looking down, intent on the fire. "You did?"

"I _said_ I knew you wouldn't appreciate it."

_For me? _Maria felt her face heat up. "I… didn't know," she said. _Stop it,_ part of her mind commanded. _Stop. That is strange and creepy and cruel and wrong and horrible._ _Stop it. You are **not** going to be flattered because he crucified someone for hurting you. _Heart pounding, she smiled at him. "Thank you."

_Something is seriously wrong with you, Maria._

* * *

_Freeside, Nevada  
April 2285_

Arcade had received another letter, this one posted from the southeast, near Camp Searchlight. While he was partly happy just to know she was still alive and well, even if she had gone crazy, Arcade almost wished she would stop writing. One day someone might ask him if he knew anything, and he didn't know how well he could keep the truth to himself. There was no doubt in his mind that, for Maria, it would be far better if the NCR believed her dead.

Cassidy's plan to gradually work her way up to telling Boon what had happened was… less than a success. Maria would have been amazed, he had actually been trying to sober himself up. Unfortunately for her, that was only because Boone had determined his new goal would be to revenge himself on the woman he now considered a traitor. He spent a surprising amount of time in meetings at the embassy, sharing all he knew about Maria's patterns and habits.

"You don't understand," he had said. Arcade was trying to downplay the situation while still playing dumb. It hadn't worked. "Caesar, he was bad. But Vulpes was _worse_. Caesar just conquered and absorbed, until he had Vulpes Inculta at his side. That twisted motherfucker was the one who spilled nuclear waste all over Searchlight. He was the one who wiped out most of the tribes of Utah. He crucified and tortured everyone in Nipton. He even convinced the Great Kahns to side with the Legion! Hell, he was probably behind the monorail blowing up. He's evil, and he's smart, and every horrible thing the Legion's done for the last ten years came straight from his head."

"If this guy is that bad," he asked the sniper, "how do we know she's not being tricked?"

_That_ was when Arcade found out about the holodisk footage. Seeing pictures of Maria looking straight at Vulpes, clearly recognizing him, and dragging him off to be saved… well, there was no way he could call it anything _but_ damning. "Dead men make lousy con artists," Boone had said drily. "And he was a dead man. Until she stepped in." He shook his head. "Why, Arcade? Why the hell would she do it?"

Arcade could only shake his head. "I have _no_ idea," he answered, wondering if there even was an answer.

* * *

_Thanks so much to everyone reading and reviewing!_  
_The title is from Loose Talk by Patsy Cline._


	10. Luck Be a Lady

_Nevada-Arizona border  
April 2285_

It was early evening before they set out for the final stretch to Cottonwood Cove. Maria had insisted on spending a day hiding out, deep in a cave. "If we travel at night it won't be as hot," she said. "We don't have a ton of water left with us, and might not find more before we get there."

Vulpes couldn't argue with her reasoning, but he was anxious to finish their trip. Since he had woken to the sound of her crying, quietly, as she maintained watch near the cave entrance, he decided not to press the issue. She had wiped her face quickly, blushing and regaining control as soon as he approached. _Sorry,_ was all she told him. _Just thinking about my friends at home. _Clearly embarrassed he had seen her; the entire event made Vulpes suspect this was something that occurred on a regular basis. Part of him had wanted to sit with her, find some way to comfort her. It was an unfamiliar situation for him, but the desire to somehow correct the situation was powerful.

_Instinct_, he reminded himself. _Instinct and foolishness._

He kept his distance instead, pretending he hadn't noticed anything was amiss. It wasn't long before she was back to normal, sipping a Nuka Cola as he once again inspected his weapons.

The trip had taken longer than he anticipated. The biggest flaw with Maria's pip-boy tool, he determined, was that it was attached to _Maria_. She was, quite possibly, the worst navigator he had ever known. It wasn't that she couldn't follow a map, it was that she would lead them off on strange twists and turns, only because something else would hit her radar and pique her curiosity.

Vulpes hadn't even known Ulysses owned a brahmin ranch, but she dragged him there- and several other places besides. Finally, after they had been skirting the edge of Nipton for the second time in a week, Vulpes had demanded they map a direct route.

"What are you looking for?" she had asked him again as they waited for nightfall.

"When I find it, I'll know," he said.

"You're not telling me something," Maria finally announced. It wasn't a question, she was simply informing him of what she suspected. He shrugged, but didn't comment. There were many things Vulpes didn't tell Maria. She rolled her eyes and returned to examining her pip-boy. The device's light inside the dark cave gave her an eerie, ghostly appearance, casting deep pits of shadow around her eyes and cheekbones, turning olive skin sallow and making her arched brows look sharper than usual. When she narrowed her eyes in concentration, lips pinched, the expression gave him pause. "What?" Maria asked, not looking up.

"Nothing," Vulpes said.

"Nothing you do is for _nothing,_" she said. "You made a noise. Something wrong? Are you all right?"

"Of course, I'm fine," Vulpes said, looking away. "For a moment you reminded me of someone I knew. Used to know. I was surprised."

"Anyone I'd know?" she asked, looking up curiously. The angle changed and it was her again.

"They're dead now," was all Vulpes told her. He didn't know how she would respond if he told her that, for a brief moment her expression had reminded him of Caesar... but he had a strong suspicion her reaction wouldn't be positive.

"I'm sorry," she said, reaching over and touching the top of his hand.

Vulpes made a noise of acceptance, not moving his hand from hers. "I've been in the Legion since I was nine. People die. Frequently." He didn't want to focus on the topic any longer. "What are you doing?"

"Looking at maps," she said. He moved to see, but misjudged the distance in the dim light. He ended up sitting down close enough that their hips were touching. She didn't seem to notice, so he pretended not to, either. She felt warm next to him. "These are old," Maria said, gesturing, "so they might not be good anymore."

"_All_ information has value," he said. "Tell me what you know."

She nodded, narrowing the focus of the map with a dial. "So, here's where we are," she said. "The road will take us right past Searchlight, which is… not a great plan."

"No, it isn't," he agreed. "I was thinking about that myself." Vulpes was gesturing to her arm. She held it out and, after a moment of fumbling to determine which dial changed what aspect, he was able to adjust the map. "If we cut straight south from here, and then east, we can bypass Searchlight. _And_ stay out of sight from the ranger station you don't have marked yet."

She nodded. "Yeah, that would work. Right here, though, we should stop." It was a tiny dot on the map, overlooking the camp. Vulpes hadn't been aware of _anything_ there.

"What's that?"

"NCR sniper nest," Maria replied casually.

_That_ was something he hadn't known about. "_Ignare!"_ he hissed, fist hitting the dirt to his side. "That empty headed, blind, idiotic… catamite!" Maria was staring at him, mouth open in surprise. She had moved back slightly. "Aurelius was in control of Cottonwood Cove," Vulpes attempted to explain his outburst. "He missed a snipers' nest not even a mile from his own _bed_? Was he that busy drinking, smoking, and fucking slaves?" Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. "That is… most certainly something we would need to check," he said after a moment.

"Yeah," she said, nodding slowly. "Are… are you all right, Vulpes?"

"I'm absolutely furious," he said. "But that is nothing new. It's near sunset, we should go."

* * *

The sniper's nest was long abandoned. Maria stood, back to Vulpes, as he inspected it. Watching the horizon, she noted a small merchant caravan, a couple wild bighorners and, in the distance, smoke from the small camp outside the irradiated remains of Searchlight. "We're clear," she announced.

"This post is dead," he announced. "They didn't even pick up the final reports after the battle. The last notation in this book is dated just before Hoover Dam." He removed a few mines from his pack. "No harm in caution, though." After a moment Vulpes had rigged the only chair to explode if anyone sat down. Crawling under the table, he shoved folded paper under three legs. Under the fourth went another mine, just low enough that something would have to be set on the table, throwing off the balance, before it went off. "That should do," he said, before doubling back. Maria watched him set up a bear trap, right in front of the nest. It was so obvious it might as well have had a flag. "Even better," he said, smiling. "If anyone shows up they'll see the bear trap and, after disarming it, assume everything is safe."

The proceeded, slowly, down the path. "I don't think anyone's been here for a bit," Maria said. The ground had a dusty, abandoned look.

"No," Vulpes said in agreement. She checked her gun, making sure a round was chambered just in case. Vulpes turned his head. "That sounds horrible."

"What?"

"Your gun," Vulpes said. "It sounds _awful_. When did you last clean it?" She looked down, trying to remember. "Maria?"

"I'm thinking," she said.

"If you can't remember, it's been too long," he announced.

"I'm sorry." She usually replaced her weapons on a regular basis, so maintaining them never really occurred to her. Not when she could just take a new one off someone she killed. This gun was special, though.

"Don't apologize to _me_," he said. "It's _your_ gun that is being slowly destroyed."

As soon as they arrived, Vulpes breaking into the small headquarters building with ease, she sat at a table and set to work. He watched her clean her pistol as he sorted through papers left behind, occasionally offering advice. "I've seen that gun before," he said finally, after walking her through replacing the firing pin.

"You probably have," she agreed. "I've been shooting things with it since we left Freeside."

"Not that," he said. "I never really paid attention until now. I've seen it before… all this."

She handed it over after a moment of hesitation. Vulpes examined it, running a finger over the engraving on the barrel. "Who is the woman?" he asked, looking at the woman painted on the grips. She stood in a gold oval, dressed in blue and wreathed in flowers. He brushed a thumb across the tiny painting. "She's beautiful. A goddess?"

"From the old-world," she said. "Graham told me about her, actually- I had no idea until then, just figured it was something pretty and flashy Benny liked. Get this, though… her name? _Mary._"

He raised an eyebrow. "Your name in English instead of Latin; that is an interesting coincidence. She even looks like you." Maria felt her face heat up, trying not to grin when she realized he had just called her beautiful, albeit very indirectly. Vulpes coughed, a sound of embarrassment. She looked up at him only to find he wouldn't meet her eyes, suddenly fascinated by the engraving on the barrel. Maybe he hadn't realized he was complimenting her, either.

"Isn't it?" she agreed. "But you're only saying she looks like me since we've both got dark hair. And my name is Spanish, not Latin."

"All roads lead to Rome," he said with a smirk, cheeks still slightly colored, before passing the gun back to her. "What was her domain?"

Maria shrugged. "Graham was a bit sketchy on that bit. I guess she was like the consort of his god, and the mother of another god. It was confusing."

"Some kind of fertility goddess," he said with a nod. "That would explain the flowers. The symbol of Venus is also a rose." He looked thoughtful. "It is likely an old world name for the same woman. Or Juno… Perhaps a mix of the two?" He must have seen Maria's look of confusion. "Juno is a goddess of fertility and motherhood. Venus is also a goddess of fertility but… more from the, ah, conception aspect than motherhood. Her primary domain is beauty and love." Maria raised an eyebrow at him, shaking her head. "What?"

"The _Legion_ has a goddess of beauty and love?" She giggled.

"Her worship is more common among women," he admitted. "You've seen a Legion war camp. That doesn't give you an accurate picture of life in our lands. All it could show you was life in a war camp." Vulpes shifted, beginning to examine a fresh stack of paper as they spoke. "Believe me, I wasn't sleeping in a tent every night or wearing armor every day at home in Flagstaff."

"What did you wear?" she asked, suddenly curious.

"A tunica," he replied, rolling his eyes when Maria burst into laughter.

"I shouldn't even pretend I'm surprised," she said. "You legion boys do love showing off those legs, don't you?"

"I'm going to ignore you now," he said. "I say this just so you don't make the mistake of thinking I'm simply being quiet." She laughed even harder when he moved, pulling himself closer to the table so his legs were hidden below.

Maria made a face at him. "I didn't even tell you the most interesting thing about this gun." He did look over then, gesturing for her to go on. "The first time I saw it I wanted it more than _anything_ in the world. Mostly because when I saw it, I was looking down the barrel."

"Benny's gun," Vulpes said. "Now I remember it. Lucius was annoyed when Caesar gave it to you. I suspect he wanted it for himself."

"Benny's gun," she agreed. "It was the first time I was ever shot. I think I more than earned keeping the thing."

"The first time you were shot it was two bullets in the head? You never do anything by halves, do you," he said.

"Clearly not," she agreed, grinning at him. "I was tempted to shoot Benny with his own gun, actually."

Vulpes considered that. "It has a lovely sense of symmetry," he said finally. "There's justice in killing him with the weapon he used to hurt you."

"There is," she said. "I thought it would be too quick and painless, though."

Vulpes smiled at her then. It seemed like the parts of her mind she tried to ignore, the parts that brought her to acts like killing half of the White Glove Society or wiping out every fiend in Vault 3, were the parts he most appreciated. _You're a bad influence,_ she had teased him one evening, pointing that out.

_Why? _Vulpes had asked. _Because I don't disparage you for killing people that deserve to die? Because I'm not willing to pretend all lives are equal? _He had smiled at her then, and she was reminded of his comments in Nipton about the weak and the strong. _The world is better with fewer fiends and cannibals. If I comment, it is only because pointing out your double standards amuse me._

"You should have left Benny to me, in that case," Vulpes said. "I was planning to crucify him until Caesar decided you would be the master of Benny's destiny."

"I was tempted," she admitted.

"We were all fairly surprised by your decision," he admitted.

"I had a point to prove," she said. "Well, two of them." Vulpes looked at her, waiting for Maria to go on. "The first was that Benny could only beat me when he had three Kahns helping him to knock me out and hogtie me."

He laughed then, the skin around his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Oh, I think you more than managed to prove that," Vulpes said. "To call him outclassed would be too kind. I think the recruits were disappointed, they had been hoping for a show."

"That was the other thing," Maria said. He gestured for her to go on. "I wanted all of you Legion guys to see that women can fight just as well as men."

"And we are back to that again?"

"It doesn't go away," she said.

* * *

Dawn had broken not long after their arrival. Vulpes had searched through many of the papers on Auraleus' desk, finding nothing that stood out. Troop movement schedules, orders from Caesar, exactly what he would expect. Although he did find a comic book mixed into the pile, dog eared and faded. That stood out, but only because it served to make his head hurt.

"Ew," came a voice from the other side of the room. Maria had been poking around to see if there were any remaining provisions that would be of use.

Vulpes went to see. Maria was peering into the ancient refrigerator, which still pumped cool air. As it touched his skin he couldn't help but sigh with pleasure. "That is utterly disgusting," Vulpes said, staring at what might have once been a steak. "It must have been in there for…"

"Two years," Maria agreed. "I think the other stuff is all right, though. It's all prewar. Just have to watch the rads. And water doesn't go bad."

"True," Vulpes agreed. "Anything frozen might be all right." She reached for the upper door, stepping back as soon as it opened. "By the gods…" Vulpes gasped. Maria was making a gagging noise behind him. "Is that…?"

"I think so," she said, sounding ill.

He grabbed the door, closing it quickly. Just before it shut, he caught a glimpse of a Viper tattoo on the leg that had been stored inside.

Vulpes turned, leaning against the closed door. "I will kill him," he said quietly, eyes closed. "I hope the gods grant him dozens of lives, so I can end each and every one of them. I will start by forcing him to eat his own fingers. I will burn his crimes into his flesh, so all who see him will know. And I will end by ripping out his lying, traitorous, cannibal tongue before stringing him up on a cross in the middle of Flagstaff."

This was what he had been looking for. This was his sign. He had left Flagstaff, left the Legion… and it was now in the hands of a monster. "Please leave me," Vulpes asked Maria. He wanted to be alone. Alone with his anger, his horror. Knowing Auraleus had betrayed him was infuriating. Finding out he had committed the lowest crimes against nature, well… that just added a new level of agony to this nightmare.

Had he always been? Vulpes had known him since they were boys. When could this have happened… How? His stomach lurched and he sat down.

Maria didn't argue, quickly scurrying out of the room. Putting as much distance between herself and the fridge of horrors must have seemed like an excellent plan. He watched through the window as she darted to the other side of camp, hair flying behind her.

* * *

Maria was happy to distance herself from the nightmare in the fridge. She had encountered cannibals before, of course. Vulpes hadn't exaggerated when he teased her for killing a substantial chunk of the White Glove Society for that very crime. The White Glove Society wasn't in control of what might have been the largest army in the west, though. That was the main thought in her mind as she ran.

She found herself standing in the long-abandoned mess hall. Ripping cabinets open, Maria was face to face with box after box of prewar junk food. Mac and cheese, snack cakes, pork and beans. A dried lump of plant that might have been agave sat in the fridge, along with bottle after bottle of Nuka Cola and Sunset Sarsaparilla. The first freezer contained only ancient trays of ice, the second lakelurk eggs.

Relieved, she sat on the floor. _Just him_, she thought to herself. _Not all of them, just Aurelius. _ Head back, she laughed. **_Just_** Aurelius? He was the new _Caesar_. He was the leader, and he was a _cannibal. _A cannibal with an army of thousands at his command… thousands who revered him as the right hand of a god.

Eventually she stood up again, grabbing two bottle of sarsaparilla from one of the refrigerators.

Walking back to the headquarters building her mind was whirring. What could they do to stop him? They were two people, they were powerless. She was nobody, it was years since he had been…

Had been…

She took off running, slamming the door open.

* * *

Vulpes looked up to see Maria in the door. Two bottles of soda were in her hands, her eyes wild. "Vulpes!" she demanded, slightly out of breath.

"Yes?" He had been expecting her. Through the window he had seen the woman running as though Cerberus was at her heels.

"How the _fuck _did some measly centurion end up Caesar when you were the head of the whole Frumentarii?"

He stared at her, suddenly realizing she had honestly not grasped the full truth of what happened until now. Vulpes had assumed she pieced it together long ago. After all, she had long known he was second only to the Legate in the chain of succession. "He got there first," Vulpes said, not for the first time. "He got there _weeks_ before I did. He was in Flagstaff, in Caesar's villa, surrounded by his praetorian guard. I am _one man_. What would you expect me to do?"

She sat next to him at the table, eyes wide. "So… you're supposed to be—"

"But I'm _not_," he cut her off. "You didn't know this?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "You... you're supposed to be…"

"I'm not," he repeated, staring at her.

She stared back at him. From this close he could see her eyes weren't entirely brown- there were small flecks of gold at the very edge, just before the whites. He could almost watch her mind at work. If he had to guess, she was currently weighing pros and cons, itemizing greater and lesser evils.

"But what do you _want_?" Maria finally asked, breaking the silence. He knew then what she would do.

Vulpes was surprised by how quickly she made the decision. He had been prepared to argue, cajole, flatter, do whatever it took to prod her into action. For weeks, maybe months, he had been planning his next move while also attempting to determine the proper approach, the right moment. She was some anonymous courier raised from obscurity to fame, seemingly out of nowhere. For two years he had watched as it seemed like the entire Mojave had fallen at her feet, vying for her favor, begging for her aid.

Even now, when he knew her far better than any of those in power ever did, he still had no idea why. Caesar had said he was impressed with her hunt for Benny, but there was more than that. There _had_ to be more than that. Even if he was simply amazed by her single-minded hunt for revenge, that did little to explain the NCR's interest.

Vulpes could never guess what the fates had in store, but he had a strong suspicion her part would continue. At the absolute minimum, she seemed to have caught the eye of Fortuna. Maria survived where others would die. Even better, she seemed to pass the same boon to others, if his continued existence was any indication. Fortuna was a powerful ally, that alone was reason enough to keep Maria on his side.

It seemed she settled on the idea almost as quickly as it occurred. He wondered if she was motivated more by her opinion of him, or her hatred of cannibals. Realizing he won either way, Vulpes smiled at her, fury making his skin feel taught. "What do I want?" he asked. "I want what's _mine_."

She smiled back at him, eyes still wild, and nodded.

_Fortune loves a fool_, Vulpes reminded himself. He wondered which one of them it was.

* * *

_Thanks so much to all my readers, especially everyone who reviews, sends me messages, or adds me to their faves and alerts._  
_A whole bunch of people recorded Luck be a Lady, but Sinatra did it best. Because, well, Sinatra._


	11. Witchcraft

_Sorry to anyone who got the duplicate chapter last time... I caught a typo, and when I went to fix it I uploaded the wrong file. It's fixed now, so if you didn't read the real chapter ten, you can now._

* * *

_Nevada-Arizona border  
April 2285_

Maria sat up, grumbling about the heat before her eyes were even open.

She had claimed the small storage room adjacent to the headquarters as her own. Having this small amount of privacy seemed a luxury almost bordering on decadence at this point. Wearing nothing but a red tunic found in an abandoned footlocker, her bare legs were tangled in the sweat-damp sheet she had partially kicked off in her sleep. For a brief moment after waking she was startled to find herself alone.

_Right,_ she reminded herself. _Vulpes has his own room_. If sleeping in the bed once occupied by his former friend Aurelius bothered him, he didn't say. If her absence was as noticeable to him as his was to her… well, he _certainly_ didn't say that, either.

Grumbling, Maria twisted her hair into a knot, holding it up from her neck. _Should go North,_ she thought to herself. _No idea why we're even in this damned desert anymore. North… maybe east. Really far east… _

At the thought of east she gasped.

_Did… did I agree to help Vulpes take over the Legion?_

* * *

He had just sat down on the roof of the small building, cold drink in hand, when Vulpes saw movement on the ground. Maria was pacing along the edge of the water. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know why she kept waving her arms around and jumping up and down, while kicking her feet at the sand, or why she was wearing nothing more than a recruit's tunic, sans armor.

_Crazy woman,_ he thought, glancing away. The tunic _was_ awfully short. It didn't seem so short when _he_ was wearing it, and he was at least half a head taller than her, perhaps more. He should say something… she was dissolute. She had no business wearing the armor of a Legionary. Or _part_ of the armor. By the gods, it barely covered her legs.

_Stop staring_, he told himself.

Pulling his eyes away, Vulpes tried to pretend she wasn't there. There were more important things for him to worry about than whatever was causing Maria to beat herself up. Although if he was forced to guess what was troubling her, he would say she was less than thrilled about her decision to aid him.

Opening the bottle he had brought with him, Vulpes took a deep gulp. The taste of sugar was almost overwhelming and he wondered, not for the first time, how many bottles there were remaining in the world. _Dependency on the old world is weakness,_ he reminded himself. It wasn't enough for him to shove the cola aside, though.

Even if Maria did regret agreeing to help him, Vulpes had to admit he wasn't concerned. She would keep her word. There was, as he had learned to his shock, some degree of honor among the dissolute. Well, that one, at the very least.

* * *

_All right_, Maria thought, taking a breath as she stomped around in the shallows of the river, _all right. So… I help Vulpes, what, kill Aurelius? I can do that. I've killed lots of people. Killed tougher guys than him. _

It wasn't helping Vulpes that gave her pause, though… it was helping Vulpes take over the _Legion_. Helping him become, essentially, the biggest slave owner in the southwest. Maybe in the world.

She looked over at where he sat on the roof. He was writing something, expression determined. Even in profile she could see he had found a set of Legion armor. It made him look taller… or perhaps he was just sitting up straighter. Almost on cue, he turned his head to look over at her. She could see him smile as he raised a hand in greeting.

He had been smiling more lately. She could never tell if it was in general, or at her. She wanted to think it was at her.

_Social circle of one! _she tried to remind herself. Maria had found it more difficult to write off everything as instinct and hormones. Even when she found Vulpes repugnant as a human being, she still thought he was physically attractive: enough to get drunk and ramble on about it, evidently. And now? Now she knew he was a smug elitist with an extraordinarily violent sense of duty and honor and an unhealthy love of revenge… but that hardly made him repulsive. It made him… well, not as unlike her as she had once believed.

_Have you forgotten about the part where he crucifies people?_

She ignored the voice in her mind, instead returning his wave before going inside. It was difficult to think with him sitting there.

Curling up on her cot, Maria tried to focus. Eyes squeezed shut, she forced her thoughts into some sort of order.

Maria didn't know if anyone outside the Legion would ever call him a _good_ man, besides herself. But then, very few people would call her a good woman, inside _or _outside the Legion. Very few people actually _knew_ either of them- not enough to form a realistic opinion. They were faces on posters, desert myths. The rest of the world would see it as swapping one evil for another. He was the monster Caesar unleashed to terrorize the Mojave, the bogeyman the NCR used to keep their troops in line.

What they would say about her, she had no idea. She didn't even have a name. She was a smiling face on a poster of Hoover Dam, a legend about a bullet in the head. Forever tied to a shitty job that almost got her killed.

It seemed likely most people would never realize Maria and the courier were one and the same. There would be the courier, and then there would be this new creature, the one who gave the destroyer of Searchlight and Nipton a throne.

No one would really understand.

The kind of man who would betray a childhood friend for power was, in her opinion, the very last person in the world who should _have _power. Even if he didn't snack on Raiders.

The world would be a better place if he was dead.

_When_ he was dead.

She opened her eyes. Would Vulpes be better for the Legion? She had no idea. Probably not by their standards, not if he kept her around. Would he be better for the rest of the world? Of that she had no doubt at all.

This was, of course, all based on the assumption that they didn't wind up on a pair of matched crosses within moments of stepping over the border of Legion land. That still seemed the most likely outcome.

* * *

Vulpes looked up from his notes. "Yes?" he asked. Maria had dropped into the chair across from him. Her hair was dripping wet and he could smell old-world soap on her, cloying and perfumed.

"So… what now?" she asked.

"I am making a list of my men," Vulpes explained. "Those who I believe would remain loyal."

"They're all frumentar…ii, right?" she paused halfway through the word, clearly unsure of the pluralization.

"Yes, they are," Vulpes said.

"Good," she nodded. "Spies are good. If they're loyal to you they can stir up trouble for Aurelius. Spread some nasty rumors… or nasty truths. That could work just as much." She looked thoughtful. "He have any enemies?"

"I assume most have long since been killed," Vulpes said. "I can check into that, though. Things are at an impasse until we cross the river. My information is painfully outdated."

He had no real plan. Vulpes _hated_ operating without a plan. Anticipating anything was near-impossible, though. It had been more than two years since he had last seen home, so much could have changed. There was no intelligence he could gather… the divide between NCR and Legion lands was an invisible wall. The people who crossed either direction were few and far between. He felt blind, and that made him anxious.

Vulpes realized that, as soon as he began reaching out to old connections, remaining hidden would become far more complex. Indeed, how could he stay hidden at all when he would need allies to find him?

So many variables…

"Vulpes?"

He glanced up at her. "I was lost in thought," he admitted.

"Did you want to leave tomorrow?" she asked. After a brief pause Maria added "or do you want to take a few days so we can, um, rest up? No difference to me." His skills were _absurdly _rusty, if she could read the worry on his face that easily.

He set the pen down, stumbling for a subject change. "You're being… surprisingly agreeable."

"Am I?" she said. "I said I'd help you. I'm no liar." She twisted, bringing her legs up onto the chair, tucked to one side. Vulpes did his best not to gawk foolishly. Gods, those tunics were _far_ too short.

"I suspected you were having second thoughts."

She shrugged, gesturing indifferently with her hand. "Maybe," she admitted. "But here's how I see it," she said. "We've got an abomination in charge of the biggest army in the West. That's really… not something that should stand. Plus, after what he did to you we know he's a total rat… and no one that dishonest should be in charge of that many guys with weapons." He looked at her, surprised. Vulpes hadn't expected that to play into her decision. "Honestly," she went on, "after I pulled half a dozen people all over the place so I could get my revenge on Benny, it would be pretty lousy of me not to help you. That's what friends do."

"Friends help you seek revenge?" he wasn't about to disagree, but it was difficult not to laugh. Having it stated so _cheerfully_ just struck him as bizarre by any standards.

"Well, the good ones do," she said, grinning back at him. "That, and I figure my odds of convincing you to free slaves is… oh, probably fifty fifty."

He had expected it would come to that. "We'll see," was all Vulpes said, not wanting to argue.

"Hmmm… maybe sixty-forty," she said.

He looked down at his notes, trying not to sigh. "Don't you have anything more important you could be doing?"

"Nope… but I'll leave you alone." She paused, before walking down the stairs. "You should think of rumors that could spark a riot. That would be a big help. I don't know what gets people all angry over there, but I'm sure you do."

He shook his head as she left. _Obviously_ he had detailed several plans to incite riots.

* * *

"Got you," Maria mumbled, pocketing the bent bobby pin and shoving the door open. It had taken far longer than she expected to pick the lock; small broken bits of metal littered the ground.

It was very difficult to pick locks on a normal occasion, and even harder while being watched. Every time she glanced over her shoulder it was just in time to see Vulpes turning his head to look away.

Stepping inside, she clicked on the pip boy light. "Damn." There was almost nothing of interest inside. She couldn't even see anything that warranted the locked door. Boxes of cleanser, ancient cans of food, random tools and chunks of incomprehensible metal, wads of wire… it was a time capsule of crap. "Garbage, garbage," she grumbled, digging through a metal box. "Why would they even save this stuff?"

There were a couple books in the corner, though. _The Poems of Catillus,_ she read, setting one aside. _The Aenid _said the other thick book. A glance inside showed her it was printed in both English and Latin.

_Vulpes will like this_, she thought. The idea made her happy.

After that, she moved on to several of the other outbuildings. Another yielded more books, locked in a box with ammunition and a small sketchpad. There was a drawing of a woman's face inside. Mother? Lover? Slave? She had no idea. She would probably never know. Still, it was an interesting thing to find, considering the _official_ Legion views on women. They were not as monolithic as it seemed.

Perhaps there was hope for them, she mused, moving to the next building.

By the end of the day an impressive pile of treasures had been stacked on the grounds.

"What is all this?" Vulpes walked up, silent as a mouse.

Maria jumped, turning to face him. He was still wearing the Legion armor. She had to make a conscious effort not to look at his legs. At least, not until his back was to her. "Stuff I found," she said, turning her gaze quickly as he looked over at her. She might have been a moment too late.

"Hm," was all he said, before automatically moving into sorting the items. Vulpes was organized almost to a fault. Guns here, books there, medical supplies off to the side. "Bandages," he mused. "Very good. But why so many books?" Vulpes looked up at her from where he kneeled near the pile. "You certainly can't be planning to keep them all," he told her. "And before you can ask: no, I will not carry your library on my back."

"I'm not keeping them all," she said. "I thought you might want to see them." Kneeling next to him, Maria sifted through the pile. "Here," she said, "look at this one." Maria had noticed something all of the books seemed to have in common… every single one was either poetry or mythology. Nothing about politics, nothing that would have been considered current events at the time it was written. Caesar had been very careful, it seemed.

Vulpes opened it, smiling as he flipped to the first page. "Latin," he said, looking over at her.

"You can read it?" she asked, curious. She knew most of the men in the Legion could speak Latin, or _some_ Latin, she wasn't sure if they had been taught to read it as well.

"Not as well as I would like," he admitted. "I was encouraged to learn by Caesar." Vulpes ran his finger under the line of text. "_Arma virumque cano_," he whispered to himself. "I know this story. This is the same book Caesar gave me to study." He glanced over at her. "I would like to keep this, if possible."

"I got it for you," she said. "It seemed like something you would want."

"Thank you," he said, closing the book reverently and setting it at his side.

* * *

_Signs upon signs_, Vulpes thought, hand resting on the book.

Maria looked positively thrilled. He tried to determine why she would be so happy. What had been her motivation? Was it a bribe? If so, why? What did she want?

Glancing over, he looked at her profile. Her dark eyes looked happy, expression fading only for a moment as she crinkled her nose, the smell of mildew hitting her from an old book. "I think this one's trashed," she said, setting it aside. _She wanted to make you happy_, he realized after a moment.

He found an unbidden smile slowly spreading across his face.

She had already moved on, grabbing another book while humming. Eventually she paused in her reading. "Can you translate this?" The English language page facing it had been lost somewhere over the centuries. "Someone underlined almost every word."

_"Odi et amo. quare id faciam, fortasse requiris?" _he read, leaning against her to see over her shoulder. Arm against her back, his skin burned where they touched_. "Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior."_

_I hate and I love. Perhaps you ask why I do this? I do not know, but I feel it and I am crucified._

_Really? _he thought, resisting the urge to shake his fist at the sky. _Really now? Is this at all necessary?_

"No," he said after a moment. "I think that's beyond my abilities."

* * *

_Thanks so much to everyone reading and reviewing!  
Vulpes' reads off the first few words of Virgil's The Aeneid (I sing of arms and the man). Memorizing the first ten lines is a really, really common assignment when you're just starting to study Latin._ _Maria's poem is Catullus' Carmen 85. Catullus was incredibly filthy on occasion, so be forewarned if you feel the urge to google. (and speaking of filth... this will eventually be bumped up to an M rating. Can I make a bad pun about a 'hard M' now? No? Aw. I likely should have mentioned that sooner.)_  
_Title is more Sinatra_


	12. Be Honest With Me

_New Vegas, Nevada  
May 2285  
_

Rose of Sharon Cassidy watched with artificial disinterest as workmen updated the posters on the NCR embassy at the Strip. Down came the "Victory at Hoover Dam!" propaganda, only to be replaced by that perennial favorite, the grim portrait of a goggled frumentarius and a warning against stealing NCR property.

_Oh yeah,_ she thought, _they know._

"Boss?" She turned her head. One of the new caravan drivers was walking over. She may have sold the name Cassidy Caravans, but there was nothing in the paperwork preventing her from starting Desert Rose Caravans. She had to have _something_ to do, after all. Living above the strip in someone else's house, doing nothing but drinking, became… uncomfortable.

"Something wrong?" He was looking at her with curiosity more than concern.

"Nah," she said. "Just sick of the same old Legion posters. The bastards are all long gone." It was a quick and easy lie. Anyone listening might have believed she actually thought that. He looked like he had something to say, though; something in disagreement to her statement. "Spit it out before you turn purple."

"We, uh," he started, "well, I don't know if they're really gone."

"_What?" _She winced. Were they making another push west? This soon?

"On that last run we saw a guy at the side of the road."

"A legionary?" she asked, wondering if they had stumbled into Maria and her new friend. She couldn't imagine he was actually wandering around in Legion armor, though. He was called the brains of the legion. If the _brains_ of the Legion was _that_ painfully stupid, well, it was amazing the rest of them could get those tunics up fast enough before pissing all over themselves.

She could, however, see Maria wearing it without concern. It had happened before. _What?_ She had said when Cass told her it was stupid. _I'm a girl, like any idiot would think I'm **really** in the Legion. They'll just figure I killed someone for it… which I did! _She did learn better when she started getting shot at, fortunately.

"Nah, some raider piece of shit. But… he was crucified. Seemed kind of recent." He didn't look terribly concerned. "You think we should tell the NCR? I didn't want to… you know how they overreact."

He was more worried about caravans being put on lockdown… again. Cass couldn't blame him. The same thing had brought on the destruction of her first company. She wasn't anxious for the same thing to happen again.

"You say Legion and the NCR will barricade us in like the hounds of hell are at the door," she said. "Screw that. If those lunatics are back, they can figure it out on their own. Isn't that why they're here, to keep us safe from the Legion?"

"True enough," he laughed.

_Damn it, Maria,_ she thought as he walked away, _I really hope you're not behind this._ After a moment Cass considered the alternative. Maybe it _would_ be better if Maria and Vulpes were spreading their own small path of destruction across the desert… it was certainly preferable to the full force of the Legion returning to Nevada.

She tried to picture her friend helping to crucify someone, mind refusing to link the images together. He'd have to be hung like Long Dick Johnson and fuck like Casanova to get her to go along with something like that.

That, or Cass never really knew Maria as well as she'd thought.

* * *

_Cottonwood Cove  
__May 2285_

Vulpes sat up quickly, a curse dying on his lips. "What should I do?" he asked the empty room.

There was no answer. He hadn't expected one. He got out of bed anyways, and started moving.

Once he opened the door to the outside, he took the stairs two at a time.

"Damnation," he hissed, realizing Maria had locked the storage room door, herself inside. He had no lockpicks, no bobby pins, nothing to open it. Glancing over his shoulder at the dark, empty, camp, he braced himself before throwing his shoulder into the door. Once, twice, three times, and finally, on the fourth, the old wood buckled and cracked.

It seemed she had fallen asleep reading. The small battery operated light was on, a book open on her chest over the blankets. He could make out the word _Amores_ on the cover. Love poetry. Of course it was.

How she was still asleep, he had no idea. Vulpes could never understand why Maria wasn't killed outright while she traveled alone. Nothing could rouse her once she was out.

It was ironic, since her nightmares were often loud enough to rouse the dead.

Vulpes never mentioned them to her. The only reason he was tempted was simple curiosity. As curious as he was, though, Vulpes strongly suspected no good would come of asking her to explain whatever incident caused her to scream _"no! too many radios!"_in her sleep before breaking down in sobs while clawing at her neck. Just watching the aftermath, especially when he had to hold her wrists to keep her from drawing blood, had been disturbing. He didn't think forcing her to recount it while conscious would improve Maria's mental stability in any way.

Her hair was spread out across the bed, head turned to the side. Vulpes stared at her lips, which were parted slightly. Her hand was on the pillow, near her face. Maria's fingers were curled slightly. He had never noticed how small her wrists were. Several thoughts raced through his mind. Each one, taken on its own, would likely have earned him a well-deserved slap at absolute best. Fortunately, Maria wasn't able to read his mind. Or see his face.

Lunging forward, he grabbed her arm.

* * *

"Wake up!" Vulpes had stormed into the small room she had claimed as her own. Maria blinked in confusion, rubbing her eyes, just as he started to physically pull her from the bed. Darting back quickly, she could see him cover his eyes before turning around. "You're not dressed."

"No kidding!" Maria said, yanking the blankets back up. "You thought I slept in armor when I was alone?"

"I would expect you to sleep in _something." _He sounded horrified.

"It's hot out!"

"We live in a desert, of course it's hot out," he countered. It was amazing, even without seeing his face she could _hear_ him sneering. "How are you not used to it? Get _up_ and get _dressed_."

"Why?" Getting back to sleep after being disturbed so abruptly was unlikely. At this point Maria was more concerned with why orders were being barked at her.

"We need to go," he said. He was packing up everything she had scattered in the room, back still turned to her. "Now."

"But _why_?" she repeated. "What happened?"

He sounded annoyed. "Do I really need to explain it? The NCR found us. That is what happened. Why else would I burst in and drag you from your bed? Get up and get dressed, or I swear to Mars I will carry you out of here, naked or not."

"Shit," she said, already jumping up and pulling clothes on. "How close are they?"

"I don't know."

Dressed, she grabbed her pack after a final glance to make sure nothing was left behind. He followed her out the door. "Where to?" She could hear the desert animals making more noise than usual: something was disturbing them.

"The boat?" he said, sounding unsure. Vulpes closed his eyes, a look of concentration on his face. "We have limited points of exit- the climb is too steep. The cove is highly defensible; there is really only one road in or out." He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Not that I would recommend we try to make a stand at this point. Defensible by a regiment doesn't mean defensible by two, and suicidal gestures don't appeal to me at the moment."

"The boat would… no," she said, looking at it. "No. It would be a good… half hour, hour before we were gone from sight? One sniper could take us down." Maria jogged over to the pier. "I don't know how to row, do you?"

He looked frustrated. "I can, but I don't think I would be as fast as Lucullus was," Vulpes admitted. Maria assumed that was the man who once rowed the boat between here and Fortification Hill. She had never known his name. He made a comment about being surprised Caesar would want to speak with a woman, and from that point on she made a point of ignoring him. "I'm not exactly experienced." Before either of them could come up with a better plan, his gaze snapped to look at the path leading into camp. "Dogs," he said quietly.

She couldn't hear a thing, but he grabbed her pack, quickly shoving it and his own into the far end of the boat, hopefully out of sight. "Into the water!" When Maria didn't move, he grabbed her arm, yanking her after him. Stumbling, she almost fell on the slippery rocks. "_Dogs track by scent,_" he said, glaring at her.

Nodding, she followed him. As Maria struggled to swim, she paused, coughing on a mouthful of water. _Is this where I die?_ He was already under the pier, treading water effortlessly. _No. No, we hide, and we live. If I die, it isn't going to be hiding under a pier. I'll die fighting. _

She fought as the sound of dogs became distinct, trying to paddle over to him and only managing to swallow more brackish water.

_Or I could drown. That's good, too._

Seeing her struggle, Vulpes doubled back, grabbing her by the waist. She didn't struggle, and a moment later they were both in the darkness under wooden planks, not even the moon reaching them. "You can't swim," he whispered.

"We live in a desert," she reminded him, repeating his earlier words. He had an arm around her waist, holding her head safely above the water.

"My tribe lived on the great lake of Utah, when I was a boy," Vulpes whispered, explaining his swimming ability.

This was the first time he had spoken of his life prior to the Legion. Maria had wondered if he simply didn't remember it, but that clearly wasn't the case. She found herself filled with questions. It would have to wait, though… she could hear voices in the camp.

_Office ransacked_

_What were they hunting for?_

_Any sign of where they went?_

_This bed's still warm_

_So's this one._

One of the men laughed at that. From the discussion that followed Maria gathered that most of their hunters assumed she and Vulpes shared a bed. She could feel her face heat up. He tensed behind her at the same time, muttering "_profligate fools," _softly under his breath.

_Must have just missed them_, one said, standing near the shore. _Boat's still here, though. Climbed, maybe._

She was trying to count the number of voices. Their guns were all on the boat- wet gunpowder was worse than useless. Both still had machetes, though. She lost count at more than a dozen. Plus there were dogs to contend with. They _might_ be able to take everyone… but it was a very narrow possibility.

_You think they're hiding somewhere?_ One asked.

_"Courier!" _another shouted, by way of response. _"Come out. Turn over the Legionary and all this goes away!" _Vulpus tensed behind her. _"We only want him," _the shouting continued. _"No one blames you." _It went on and on. She could feel Vulpes's heart racing, his chest pressed to her back, and the grip on her waist had grown noticeably tighter.

She listened to the man beckoning to her, eyes narrowing.

* * *

Vulpes listened to the rangers calling her, a pit in his stomach. _Don't_, he thought_. Don't make me kill her. _He wondered, not for the first time, if the gods did hate him.

Maria had tensed up. He could literally see her shoulders tighten. He held her waist tighter, as if he could communicate through touch. _They're lying_, he thought, head leaning forward, wondering if it was worth the risk of whispering. _They are lying to you and if you believe them I will not hesitate to cut you down. I will hold you under the water until your breathing stops before I'll die in an NCR prison cell. I will kill you. I will. I…_

It was almost enough to make him laugh, the idea that he would even live long enough to see a cell if they captured him.

_You are smarter than them, Maria. Those profligates are lying. Please see that they're lying. I don't want to kill you. _

* * *

She hadn't delivered a package to anyone in years, why did they keep calling her courier? Did they think she was stupid? Did they think she had no loyalty to her friends? Really, how would they know what was and wasn't her? They didn't even bother to use her real fucking name- if they even knew it.

"Screw that," she whispered, so low Vulpes probably hadn't heard her.

She moved her arm from her side below the water, to where he was still holding on to her so she wouldn't drown. After a moment of hesitation, Maria laid her own hand over his. It seemed as good a message as any. Vulpes let out the breath he had been holding, hot against the skin of her neck. His posture seemed to change then; both of his arms were around her as he leaned closer. Under other circumstances it would have been rather nice, even if he did kick her every few seconds if she let her legs get into his way.

Besides, Vulpes was the only thing between her and two lungs full of water; betraying him while he was very literally keeping her alive seemed _exceptionally_ cold. If she was rotten enough to do that, well, she would probably deserve it when he tried to drown her or stab her or whatever he would do to keep her quiet. There was no way he would easily surrender to the NCR, after all. She couldn't fault him for that, it would have been suicide.

Eventually they seemed to give up shouting to her. _They're long gone,_ one woman said, at the same moment another man commanded f_or the love of god, shut up already. Half the Mojave can hear you. _The crier responded with a string of curses. From their hiding spot under the pier Maria listened to the NCR debate where to look next. A pair matching their description had, apparently, been seen entering Vault 11. There were also rumors that the courier and an unknown man had run off to hide in Utah. One ranger was adamant that they were overheard discussing a good route to the east coast. She was, evidently, heavy with child as well. That was news to her. Finally, someone barked varying orders at different groups and they left. It felt like hours.

* * *

"Thank you," Vulpes whispered. Maria squeezed his hand under the water, likely believing he was speaking to her. No matter, the gods knew. And if it made her happy to think his comment was for him, well, that could be a good thing. Legs aching, Vulpes wrapped his free arm around her waist, burying his face against her shoulder. Maria didn't seem to notice, or if she did, didn't care. Perhaps she assumed he was simply tired.

He was so tired. He couldn't remember the last time he was this exhausted. The first thing he would do, after sleeping for two, perhaps three, days, would be to teach her how to swim.

* * *

"I think we're clear," she whispered after a long silence. He made a noise of agreement and slowly boosted her onto the pier. After a moment he pulled himself up as well, stumbling to the end where he dropped to the sand. She stood and looked out over the camp while he remained lying on his back on the dry ground. Freezing from spending so long shoulder deep in the water, she was grateful they gave up the search before dawn. It would have made hiding much more difficult.

Maria walked up the pier, retrieving their bags from the boat. "Here," Maria passed him the pack. "Get some dry clothes on." She dug into her own pack, too cold and tired to care if she changed in front of him. His eyes were closed, anyways. "Vulpes?" she said, tucking her gun into its holster once more. It likely looked absolutely ridiculous to be wearing a belt and holster over another of the pilfered Legion tunics, but it was clean and dry.

"In… a…. moment…" he said slowly, still out of breath. "Just need… to rest…" She felt guilty. While she was cold and clammy from the water, he also had to contend with treading water for two people… for ages. Vulpes had been doing all the work of keeping them both from drowning. No wonder he was exhausted. She sat next to him and began to remove his boots, he was too tired to argue.

"How sweet." Maria looked up, into the eyes of a ranger who had stepped from behind the office and was walking towards them. "I knew having someone wait around was a good ide—"

Her body crumpled to the ground, words cut off.

"Good shot," Vulpes mumbled.

"I have my moments." He made a noise of agreement before sitting up. "You think there's any more around here?"

"Are we being shot at?" he asked.

"No."

"Then no," he answered.

She turned her head as he sat up and stumbled to his feet, realizing he wanted to take off his drenched armor. She didn't want to be rude, although he didn't seem to care. He was likely too exhausted to concern himself with modesty. When she looked back he was wearing a tunic and had pulled a blanket out of his pack to cover himself. Something occurred to Maria. "Hey Vulpes?"

"Hmmm?" His eyes were closed.

"How did you know they were coming?"

"Oh, that?" he said quietly, rolling to his side. "Mars told me."

Almost as soon as the words were out he was asleep.

* * *

_So the story description was actually literal Surprise!. I can just imagine the look you're giving me now. But... please trust me on this, OK. I promise it won't become The Vulpus Inculta Cavalcade of Batshit Crazy. Pinky swear. I'm actually going somewhere with this._

_Thanks so much to my readers and reviewers. I'm amazed by the responses to this story... and hope I didn't just scare everyone off with those last two sentences._

_Title is from Dean Martin._


	13. If I Didn't Care

_Cottonwood Cove, Nevada  
May 2285_

_Huh,_ Maria mused, feeling stupid and mute with shock. _That wasn't what I expected._

So, Vulpes thought Mars was talking to him. That was… well, Maria didn't know _what_ that meant. Besides that he was likely insane. Was this something new? Had he been following the instructions of some voice in his head all these months?

It made her wonder how much she really did know him. What had been Vulpes, what were the delusions? Where did her friend end and… whatever it was he called Mars begin?

She looked over at Vulpes, black lashes resting on the translucent skin below his eyes, almost hidden in the dark circles. His hair had gotten very long: it was actually hanging into his eyes. Vulpes asked her if she could help him cut it… swearing if something wasn't done he would shave his head or go mad. That had been their plan for today, in fact. His nose was twitching in his sleep, annoyed by his shaggy mane. She absently brushed it back.

Still thinking about his final words before falling asleep, Maria pieced together everything that had happened since she was so abruptly pulled from bed. Only one thought came to mind. _If he didn't find out from Mars… then how? _

That she was actually taking this seriously was a bad sign. There was no Mars; no magical guy in a toga was sitting on some cloud dictating their lives. The very idea was absurd. Their lives were their own, they made their own fates. To say otherwise… well, mostly people used it as an excuse to avoid responsibility. Or to make themselves feel better about their shitty existence. He didn't seem to do either, so up until now she paid no real mind to Vulpes' odd religious beliefs.

Blaming his gods for failures in life was suddenly looking pretty damn reasonable in comparison.

_But how did he know the NCR were on their way? _

_Need rest,_ Maria thought, dropping to her back on the ground where she was. When 'my ancient warrior god told me' seemed like the most reasonable explanation, it was usually a bad sign. It wasn't wise, both of them sleeping outside at once. As soon as that occurred to her, though, she felt the world fall away.

* * *

There was something pinning him down. Vulpes tensed, rolling to his back when his attempt to sit up failed. With one hand he reached out, slowly feeling around for his machete as he opened his eyes to see what was keeping him trapped. After a moment of thought, attempting to piece together what he saw, Vulpes realized it was a thin arm and… a tan leg, bare to the thigh. _Oh_.

It would certainly explain why his back was so warm. There was a woman attached to it.

He dropped the machete back to the ground quickly, glad he hadn't attacked.

Maria grumbled in her sleep, apparently disturbed by his movement. She rolled over, taking her limbs with her.

Looking at the sky, he smiled. He hadn't intended to tell her about Mars. Certainly not last night, likely not ever. It was true that he had become remarkably lax about guarding his words with Maria, but that was one secret he held close to his chest. She was no believer, if he shared that Mars was guiding him… well, she would likely run screaming. Run screaming, calling him a madman all the while.

Not that he could have blamed her for that. Most days _he_ worried it was just madness.

Most days he worried… but then, every once in a while, something would happen to remind him otherwise. Waking already _knowing_ the NCR were on the way, long before he could have heard them, was only the most recent example. Knowing his answers would be at Cottonwood Cove, finding Maria in Freeside, even overhearing the NCR discussing her… these things couldn't all be coincidence.

Vulpes even wondered about being shot on occasion. There were very few people in the Mojave who could treat a bullet to the head. To narrow it further, he suspected there was only one person with that skill who wouldn't have simply left him to die- or handed him off to the NCR.

And that one person was right there, at the moment he needed her.

Had Mars guided him to that barn, knowing he wouldn't be able to outrun the NCR any longer?

He would never know, of course, but that wouldn't stop him from puzzling over it for hours on end.

He hadn't planned to tell her. The words had slipped out, his exhaustion speaking before his mind could take control. His last thought before unconsciousness had been horrified regret.

She hadn't run, though. She had stayed, and he woke to find himself in her arms.

That had to mean something.

* * *

Eyes closed, Maria enjoyed the feeling of the early morning sun on her skin. That was one of the nice things about sleeping outside, even if it was several hours before she would have preferred to wake up… what with not actually getting much sleep the evening before. Nothing she could do about it, though. The sun was beyond her control.

Eventually she stretched, arching her back and digging her hands into the warm sand above her head. Opening her eyes, she saw Vulpes lying next to her, looking over. "_Salve_," he said, sounding amused. "Are we foregoing a watch now?"

"Morning," she replied. He wasn't _actually_ upset, she could tell. He wouldn't have been smiling. "And why not?" she asked. "Last night was such a rush… I figured a bit more risk could be fun. So I decided… no more keeping watch. From now on we're running blind. Exciting, right?"

"Sounds fantastic," he agreed. "I think I saw an old suit in one of the cabinets inside. I say why do anything halfway? Replace armor with party clothes. We can rely on looking like confused, lost gamblers as a means of self defense while we're at it. Run into any rangers and we can pretend to be drunk and ask them for directions to New Reno."

She laughed hysterically at the image, actually falling forward, leaning against his shoulder. Most of it was just giddiness, a result of the close call the night before, but Maria didn't hold back. Vulpes so rarely attempted to make a joke… he deserved a big reaction.

He looked pleased, practically beaming as he set a hand on her upper arm, just below her sleeve. It was warm against her skin.

They had ever right to be happy. They got away… again. It was a strange combination of excitement simply from how close it was, and relief. The entire thing was very exhilarating. Maria realized this wasn't the most normal way to see things, but knowing that didn't make her any less giddy. "I can't _believe—"_

"Nor can I," he agreed. "They were right over our heads and had _no idea_." He almost whispered the final words, as though they were sharing a great secret. She had rarely seen him look so happy.

"I'm amazed they couldn't hear my heart pounding," she admitted. "I really thought that was it."

Vulpes' smile wavered. "I must admit, for a moment I worried you—"

"Don't be stupid," she cut him off. "I'd never do that. You should know that." Maria resisted the urge to smack him in the head. How many times would she have to prove they were on the same side? "Like you wouldn't have just let me drown if I tried, anyways," Maria added, laughing.

"I wouldn't have _wanted_ to," he said, not bothering to try and deny it. To his credit, Vulpes did seem sincerely troubled by the idea.

"I know," she said. Maria wasn't concerned… what else could he have done if she, in effect, tried to kill him?

He still seemed upset. "No, I… I would like you to know, I _need _you to know that I…" He had sat up abruptly. Maria followed suit, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Vulpes, it's all right," she said. "I know you're not going to drown me or anything. Don't worry about it. I was just joking; it was a dumb thing to say."

He turned his head, staring at her hand. Blushing, she pulled it back. She was likely pushing her luck, taking any given opportunity to touch him. "No, no it isn't that," he said after a moment. "I'm trying to tell you…" He sighed, looking frustrated. "I have no skill for this sort of thing," Vulpes admitted, although Maria didn't know what sort of thing he was talking about. More to himself, he mumbled "crucifying people is far easier."

She had wanted to ask him about the entire 'Mars told me' business, but it clearly wasn't the time. Not when he was busy going insane before her eyes. Probably related, she realized. Maybe he was arguing with "Mars" right now.

What a mess this was turning out to be.

_But **how** did he know?_

_He's got crazy freak hearing, that's how._

_Good hearing or no, he's not an **actual** fox. They were miles off when he woke you._

_Maybe he's some kind of psyker? _

_The voice of Mars would be more likely than that. And the Legion wouldn't tolerate it, anyways. He would have been killed decades ago if he was a mutant._

Realizing she was, in essence, arguing with herself, Maria took a breath. It wouldn't do for both of them to go insane at the same time. Maybe they could take turns? If so, today was his day to be a lunatic. He claimed it first.

Vulpes had gone silent.

"It is very rare I find myself unable to form the correct words," he finally said when she looked at him. "If I were in New Vegas, dressed in a suit, I would know what lies were needed. Lies are simple. Truth is another matter, though." He looked briefly amused. "Lanius used to mock me; he said I was a man of words, not action. That I would talk and plot someone to death before ever taking a risk. Now look… I can't even string a sentence together."

"Are you all right?" Maria was staring at him, but he seemed lost in thought.

"Hmmm?" he said, not looking up. "I… yes. I am fine. I appreciate your concern." He looked tense enough to snap in half. "I should go make sure we haven't left anything behind."

With that he was on his feet, stalking through the camp.

_What the fuck?_ she thought, watching his retreating back. He was practically _running_ from her.

Maybe he _was_ insane. With an ache in her chest she laid back on the ground, curling into a ball on her side. Did she know him at all?

* * *

Vulpes leaned against the closed door of the office, glad to be hidden from sight. _That could have gone substantially better_, he thought with a wince. If she didn't think he was a madman before, well, there was no doubt she did now. He tried to imagine ways it could have gone _worse_, and the only things that came to mind involved bloodshed. _That's one good thing_, he thought. _I didn't accidentally shoot her. How wonderfully reassuring._

He was an imbecile.

If she was some cocktail waitress or maid he would have no problem. He wasn't trying to sweet talk her because she had information he needed, though. Really, he strongly suspected she would be more likely to shoot someone if they attempted such a thing than go to bed with them.

Even more importantly, he wasn't trying to con her. He didn't want to be his profligate alter ego. Of course, he didn't want to be the high ranking officer of the Legion, either… the women in Flagstaff who were attracted to that seemed split between disturbingly hungry for power and just, well, disturbing.

That didn't leave many options.

It was unfortunate Maria had killed the ranger so quickly. Crucifying that raider seemed to impress her… but, of course, he would have needed someone to crucify for that- and a reason to do so. Just pulling some random profligate from the wastes likely wouldn't help. After a moment's thought he realized that would probably make the entire situation far worse.

No, it wasn't a viable plan at the moment. He would keep it in mind for future reference, but at the moment there were no nearby enemies he could kill for her.

Of course, with the way he was behaving, Vulpes wouldn't have been surprised to go outside and find Maria long gone.

He had been pacing the floor, but spun on his heel as the door opened.

"Hey," she said casually, walking in and pulling out a chair. Maria sat down and held up the metal object in her hands. "Haircut?"

"I…" he stared at her. She was up to something. "All right," Vulpes finally said.

He began to pull out a chair. She made a noise and shook her head. "Floor."

"Pardon?"

"You're like eight inches taller than me," Maria pointed out. "If we both want to sit down, and I'm feeling pretty damn lazy after last night so I totally want to sit down, then you have to sit on the floor. Or I cut your hair blind, and you end up looking like a Great Kahn. You pick."

He sat down as she had asked, wondering what was going through her mind. "Do you know what you're doing?" Vulpes asked, suddenly nervous.

"It's hair and scissors. How hard could it be?" was the response. It wasn't reassuring. She was moving around behind him. Bits of hair started to fall. Without warning, she slung one leg over his shoulder, pinning him to the chair. "So," Maria said as he coughed with surprise, "let's talk."

He shifted, trying to pull away. She just dragged him back again, bare heel pressing into his ribs painfully. She was evidently worried he would try to run away. Well, _again_. He wondered if she would kick him for touching her leg. It didn't seem the time to test that.

"Talk?" Vulpes said.

"Yeah," she said, still clipping away at his hair. "You and me. Talk. Or would it be you, me and Mars?"

"Very funny," he said.

"Glad one of us thinks so," she said.

Vulpes sighed. "Maria," he began. He wasn't entirely sure how to continue. "This… well, it isn't what you're thinking."

"Really?" she said. "Since I was thinking you're hearing voices and doing what they tell you to do."

"I'm not hearing _voices_," he said. "Honestly."

"Then what?"

He sighed, struggling to find a way to explain.

"And stop twitching unless you want a bald spot," she added when he started turning his head. It was very difficult to have this conversation without facing her.

"I just know," was what he finally said. "It isn't something I can easily explain. Occasionally I get an idea, and know it was Mars. I knew you would think I was mad, that's why I've never said anything."

"How do you know its Mars," she asked him.

"I just _know_," he said. There was a long silence. Finally, Vulpes said, "I realize how that must sound."

"Insane?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"How long have you, um…"

"I don't know," he said. "I think it was happening for some time before I really noticed it."

She was quiet for a moment. Her hand was on his shoulder, he could feel her shift and lean closer. This was her attempt to be nice. "Is… is there any chance this is because… um… you were shot in the head?"

He considered that. "No," Vulpes said. "I… I really suspect it was Mars who saved me that night."

"Gee, thanks," she deadpanned.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said. "It is very likely you are the _only_ person that wouldn't have simply left me to die… and actually knew how to help me. I had no reason to be there, it was just… luck. Maybe Mars guided me to you?" The statement had seemed far less… emotional in his head. It came out sounding like a line from one of the horrid romances Maria would occasionally read. She didn't say anything. "Are you still cutting my hair?" he finally asked, feeling compelled to break the silence.

"No," she said. "Just finished. Only have the front left." Vulpes began pulling away, but her leg remained over his shoulder. "Um…" she started laughing. "My leg's asleep." The sound was enough to make him feel far more relieved. If she thought he was insane, well she wouldn't be laughing. He grabbed her leg, planning to move it. Vulpes hadn't anticipated her shrieking behind him, flailing around enough to nearly fall out of the chair. "That tickles!"

Being much more gentle, he pulled her leg from his shoulder. Before letting go, Vulpes impulsively ran one fingernail across the bottom of her foot.

That was when she fell from the chair.

"You _jerk_," Maria shrieked, laughing as she scurried backwards.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said. "Have you been drinking? You've fallen from your chair."

"As soon as my foot stops tingling I swear I am going to _kick your ass_," she informed him, pointing.

"Are you now?" he answered. "You're certainly welcome to _try_."

"Are you implying I can't?" She had her eyes narrowed in mock indignation.

"Implying? Here I thought I was being fairly blunt about it." Vulpes turned to face her. If she was going to act like nothing was wrong, well, so would he. "You didn't plan that out very well, did you?"

"Of course not," she said. "Do I ever plan anything out? I just didn't want you to run off or anything. And I didn't want to look at you." He wasn't sure how he looked when she said that, but she could clearly tell that bothered him. "Not like _that_," Maria said, voice surprisingly reassuring. "I didn't want you to bullshit me. It's a lot harder for you to go all master spy on me if you can't make eye contact."

"Not really," Vulpes said. "Eye contact makes it far more difficult to lie, especially when you're speaking to someone who knows you." He paused, adding, "I wasn't _planning_ to lie, you know."

"Maybe it's just me, then," she said, "I've got a bad tendency to believe everything you tell me." Maria looked at him and giggled again. "Come here," she gestured to him. "You look absurd."

Vulpes slid across the floor, stopping in front of her. Maria picked up the scissors and resumed clipping away. Every once in a while she would stop, lean back, and look at him critically. He was enjoying watching her work, seeing the different expressions on her face. It was one of the few occasions he had to look at her without seeming like he was staring. Occasionally their eyes would meet briefly. She always seemed to look away first, smiling in a way he could only describe as nervous.

Of course, it was also beginning to make him suspicious when she stopped after almost every cut to lean back, scrunch up her nose and stare at him. "You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" Vulpes finally asked.

"Not the first clue," she admitted.

"How bad is it?"

"It's… hm..." She tipped her head. "I cut it different. I like it. You look nice."

"_Boni di_," he groaned, knowing his feeling of dread was obvious.

"Aren't you Mr. Fancypants," she said with a giggle. "Really, I'm the one who has to _look_ at your hair. If I say it's fine, then who cares? Who else do you talk to?" She laughed. "Well, besides, you know…" Maria evaluated her work again before resuming cutting. "If Mars hates your hair I promise I'll cut it again."

"Is that how things are going to be?" he asked, blinking as bits of hair fell across the bridge of his nose.

"Mockery?" she replied. "Yeah, probably. Done."

He met her eyes, trying to read her emotions. She looked more confused than anything else. "Is everything… all right?"

"Yeah," Maria said after a pause. "It would be pretty lousy of me to hate the voice in your head when it just saved my ass. Just stop having arguments with yourself and running away. That sort of thing makes it hard to convince myself that you're just harmless crazy. Instead of _crazy_ crazy." She set the scissors down. "Everything's fine. I think all you religious types say you talk to your gods, anyways. I remember my mother talking to stuff." Maria looked lost in thought for a moment. "Maybe I'm the odd one."

Vulpes stood, walking into the small bathroom to check the mirror. "This… isn't bad," he said after a moment. It was slightly longer than he normally preferred, but not nearly as bad as he had feared. It wasn't bad at all, in truth.

"I told you!" Maria said. She was standing not far behind him. "I figured it was nice and Roman looking. I copied some guy in one of the books."

"Oh?" Vulpes asked, looking back. "Who?"

"Dunno," she said. "Some guy named Octavium or Octavius or something. Looks good, though, doesn't it?"

Vulpes couldn't complain. Walking over, he stood closer to her. "Do you think I'm insane? Please be honest."

Maria looked thoughtful. "Honestly? I have no idea what to think. No matter what I do, I can't figure out how you would have known about the NCR last night. I've tried and tried. I was trying last night, I was trying when I woke up. Nothing. And that kind of bugs me. So… I just… I don't know."

No wonder she seemed so confused. Vulpes realized he would have felt much the same in her position. It took him weeks, maybe months, to come to terms with this. She had known for less than twelve hours. All things considered, Maria was taking everything in stride. She bit her lip, and Vulpes found himself staring at her mouth.

"It's a lot to deal with all at once," she finally said. "You could have told me months ago, before I… well, you should have told me already."

"I do apologize for that," he said. "It was probably foolish of me to assume I could keep that silent forever." He didn't like the look of betrayal on her face. "I'm the same person I was yesterday," Vulpes finally said. "Nothing has _actually_ changed. Only your understanding of the situation."

"Yeah," she said. "I know." She smiled up at him then. Vulpes examined her expression and suspected things would go back to normal. Or the madness they had grown to consider normal. "Any other big secrets you're carrying around that I should know about?"

_You want to rule the Legion and a single woman can send you running? _

"Just one," Vulpes said, barely above a whisper. She raised an eyebrow. Before he could think better of it, he grabbed her. Bending, he pressed his mouth to hers. It probably couldn't be called kissing. That generally required two people, and she was too unprepared to respond. Pulling back, he looked at her, trying to gauge Maria's reaction.

Blinking, she put her fingers to her mouth. "Ohhhh!" she said after a painful extended silence. "_That_."

_Oh that? What did she mean by "oh that?" _She had gone silent. Her mouth was open as though she was about to speak, but nothing came out. He probably should have waited… at least until she was more reassured of his sanity. The fact that his mental stability could even be a point of debate likely meant it wasn't the proper moment.

"Damn it, Vulpes," she muttered. "I am going to be _so_ pissed if you really are crazy." With that said, she grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to her level.

This time, when their lips met, both were ready.

* * *

_I tried to finish this last night but the clock wasn't in my favor. Lousy 24 hour days and all that._  
_Gratias vobis ago to all my readers and reviewers! Knowing people are reading and enjoying this is certainly a good source of motivation to write more. :)_  
_Title is from that perennial Fallout favorite, The Ink Spots._


	14. Breathless

_A/N... Long gap, I know. Sorry... been super busy with work. I wanted to make sure I posted this before the weekend, though.  
Oh, and this chapter is very decidedly M rated. *ahem* Title is Jerry Lee Lewis.  
Thanks so much to all my readers and reviewers! Knowing people are reading is a great inspiration to write more. _

* * *

_Cottonwood Cove, Nevada  
May 2285_

Maria put her fingers to her lips. For a moment she imagined they were warmer where his mouth had been. Maybe they were. Heart pounding, she stared blankly forward for a moment, attempting to think clearly.

_So he…_ That would explain what he had been babbling about outside. "Oh…," she said, everything becoming clear. "_That_." So Vulpes was… _nervous_. That was much less unsettling than him being crazy. Why he was nervous around her, she had no idea. She was just a bony-kneed former delivery girl with an extra hole in her head. And likely pushing the bounds of being able to use the description 'girl' for herself without looking slightly deranged.

Vulpes was waiting for her to do, well, something… and looking as though he was expecting to be hit, of all things. _He has no idea. _The knowledge hit her very suddenly. All the times he had caught her sneaking looks at him, all the silly comments she had let slip out unintentionally, all the excuses she found to stand close to him, or touch him… and he still didn't have a clue. Of course, she hadn't realized he had any sort of desire for her, either. Although in hindsight, it did explain quite a bit.

_What a brilliant pair we are. _It was almost enough to make her laugh, but she at least had the good sense to cut that short before it began. After all, he would probably think she was laughing at _him_.

This would change things. This would change _everything. _If things went according to their best plans she would end up… what, the mistress of the new Caesar? Was that any kind of life? Would she be happy? Would she be _unhappy? _Of course, she had no idea what would have happened to her otherwise. Somehow it hadn't occurred to her to consider _that_ up until now.

And if things didn't work out… then what? Would they just go their separate ways? That had always been an option. And why hadn't she thought about doing so until now? Because she didn't _want_ to go off on her own. She wanted to stay with him. The idea of _not_ being around him made her chest ache.

_Oh,_ she thought, pondering _that_ for a few seconds. That was certainly something to take into consideration.

Really, it was a little late for pretending everything could stay the same. Vulpes had laid his cards on the table. He certainly couldn't claim he was drunk. She tried to decide if she _wanted_ to turn back the clock. No… no she didn't. Even if it was the smarter option. But it _wasn't _an option. So why was she even considering it?

All this rushed through her head at once, a million ideas bombarding her. Vulpes was staring at her, looking crestfallen. She had waited too long, trying to think about what she wanted, and now he probably assumed she was rejecting him. Wait, _was_ she rejecting him? The only reason she would was… well, the Mars thing. _Shit,_ she thought. Maria had already managed to forget he was talking to ancient Roman war gods. How could she forget _that?_ That wasn't good. But then, if he'd been doing the same since they met… nothing really had changed.

She had to do _something_. They couldn't stand here in silence until dehydration killed them both.

_All right, Maria,_ she thought. _Decide… one… two… three… now. _Looking up at him, Maria felt her stomach flip.

"Damn it, Vulpes," she muttered, grabbing him by the collar. "I am going to be _so_ pissed if you really are crazy."

He looked like he was ready to argue his sanity again, but couldn't get the words out before she was on him. _All right, _she thought as his arms went around her, _good decision._

She had imagined how Vulpes would kiss on several occasions. Well, _fantasized _was probably the more accurate word. Maria had suspected he would be aggressive, maybe even violent. She had _feared _he would be utterly clueless. To her relief, neither was accurate.

One hand was tangled in her hair, the other on her lower back. _Hungry,_ she thought, returning his kiss. She couldn't think of a better word to describe it. He was on her like a starved man. Perhaps he was. It was how she felt, no question about it. His tunic was still bunched in her fist, her knuckles gone white from the pressure. Vulpes' mouth was hot on hers and when he started to pull away she yanked him back with an arm around his shoulders.

Maria was pushing him back towards the open door and stairs.

He pulled back from her again, hands still on her. "Maria?"

"Hmm?" she replied, moving her mouth to his throat.

He made a sound that wasn't too far from a laugh, dropping his arms. "I'm not going to let you shove me _backwards_ up a flight of stairs."

She pulled away from him, feeling her face burn. 'Carried away' likely wouldn't even begin to describe how she was behaving. "I… oh. Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry."

_Idiot_, she though. He wasn't some New Vegas playboy. Obviously Vulpes didn't expect her to fall into bed with him immediately. He was probably thinking all sorts of horrible things about her now, most of them involving the word profligate- or worse. _Idiot, idiot, idiot. _

_Might as well move to Nipton at this point,_ she thought with a feeling of embarrassment.

"You should be," he said. "Walking backwards up the stairs is needlessly reckless." Turning, he continued to talk as he headed to the second floor. "It's practically _asking_ to fall down and break something."

"Oh, right," she said, realizing he was just operating on a level of practicality she couldn't even fathom. Still, that was far better than Vulpes thinking she was some kind of tramp. Maria didn't hesitate before bounding up the stairs after him.

Once upstairs, he kicked the door open. The room was… well, spotless. Of course Vulpes would leave the space far cleaner than he had found it. He had even made the bed.

She glanced over at him. He raised his brows, as if daring her to comment.

"Very… tidy," Maria said, nodding. They were both standing, silently looking across the room. "Well," she began.

"So…" Vulpes said at the same time.

They both fell silent again.

Maria tried to think of a way past the awkwardness that wouldn't be painfully embarrassing. Failing, she decided to do something that would at least distract them both from the sudden chill in the room . Bolting across the room, she jumped onto the bed. With a laugh she hopped a couple times, tapping her fingers against the low ceiling, before dropping to a sitting position.

He stared at her in surprise. "Was that necessary?" Vulpes asked, walking over.

"Oh yes," she said, "absolutely necessary. Neatly made beds exist only to be jumped on." He was staring down at her. "Besides, now _I'm_ over here, and y_ou're_ over here, and we're not over there acting like we're suddenly terrified of each other."

"You mean _again_?" he said, smirking.

"Quiet, you," she said, making a face at him. "I was never afraid of you."

"Lies"

Maria climbed to her knees, eye level with Vulpes. "Calling me a liar? Again with that?"

"Maria, if you stop lying I'll _gladly_ stop calling you a liar," he replied.

She put her arms over his shoulders, hands folded behind his neck. "I have to tell you," Maria told him, speaking low, "if this is how you charm girls… I'm not impressed."

"Now I have to try and impress you? Didn't I just save your life earlier today? That should be more than enough." Vulpes sighed dramatically before pulling her closer to him. "_Sic erit," _he whispered, "_haeserunt tenues in corde sagittae_." Tangling one hand in her hair, he spoke into her ear, breath tickling her skin. "_Et possessa ferus pectora versat Amor. Cedimus, an subitum luctando accendimus ignem?"_ She felt her knees weaken as he kissed her. Parting, Vulpes ran a finger across her lower lip. "_Cedamus… leve fit, quod bene fertur, onus." _

Maria swallowed roughly. Love poetry. In Latin. That pretty much destroyed any previous flirtation that had been directed towards her. Even if she did recognize it.

Looking at her, he raised his eyebrows. "Does that meet your standards?"

"I… um… yeah," she said, grinning at him. "Will you translate for me?"

"Not a chance in Hades," he said, grinning as he pushed Maria back to the bed.

"Aw," she replied, pouting but not actually offended. "You mean I have to look it up myself?"

"How do you know I didn't write it?" he asked, words muffled by his lips brushing her throat. One hand was sliding up her leg, pushing the tunic with it. "I'm insulted."

"Two rea— reasons," she gasped. His hand had slipped between her thighs.

"Do tell," Vulpes said. He was watching her face, smiling at ever gasp and moan. When she didn't answer he sighed. "Tell me," Vulpes whispered in her ear.

"It's Ovid," she mumbled, eyes half closed. "My book. Read yesterday." The final statement was more moan than word.

He chuckled. "It is," Vulpes admitted.

He was half on top of her, their legs tangled together. Maria had his tunic bunched in her fists, eyes clenched shut. Vulpes was teasing her with his thumb, after a moment he slid two fingers inside, watching her face.

Maria had been attempting to yank his tunic off, but failed utterly. Even if it hadn't been pinned between their bodies, she had no coordination, and Vulpes was doing nothing to help her. After a moment of struggle she gave up, deciding to focus on what he was doing instead. As she gasped, he moved faster. Every muscle in her body tensed, she felt like she could snap into a thousand pieces. She was begging him not to stop, beyond caring how she might have sounded or looked.

With a final shriek Maria nearly managing to knock Vulpes from the bed before melting back into the mattress. He barely paused before rolling on top of her, knees pushing her legs apart.

"Sālve, Vulpes," she said, giggling as he landed on top of her.

"Hi, Maria," he replied.

The aging bedframe creaked loudly under them. Their eyes met briefly at the sound and Maria felt her heart pounding. For a brief moment they both froze, as if expecting the metal to finally collapse under them. It held steady, though, and they laughed nervously after a moment.

He pulled her up to a sitting position, yanking the tunic over her head. Or rather, he attempted to. "Blood of Mars," Vulpes mumbled to himself, giving up as the sleeve caught on her Pip-boy.

"Sorry," Maria said.

"Can that thing come off?" he asked. "It's not… Gods, it's not _permanent_, is it?" Vulpes was clearly horrified by the idea.

"It comes off," Maria confirmed. "Here, watch," she said. "Only I can take it off. But if I'm ever knocked out and you need to get it off my arm, just put my hand here," she demonstrated, thumb over the button that would release the lock. "And push down on my thumb." The latch came open, and she carefully set the old device on the floor.

Vulpes smiled, taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth. He kissed the skin of her inner wrist, normally hidden under the Pip-boy, and once again tried to pull the tunic over her head- this time successfully. Maria tensed briefly, not able to stop herself from remembering the last time a man had seen her naked. He had taken one look at the scars normally hidden under her clothing and said _'damn, baby, what the hell happened to you?'_

Vulpes stared for a moment before lunging at her. Shoulders on the mattress, Maria felt her lower back arching almost involuntarily as his hands and mouth began to explore her skin. He was whispering in Latin, voice low, but she couldn't hear him well enough to understand. It _sounded_ complimentary, at least. He could have been saying anything, though, and she wouldn't have cared.

Finally managed to yank his tunic off, Maria fell back trying not to grin like a fool. Her eyes were moving across his defined abdominal muscles, down to his toned thighs, and everywhere in between, drinking in the sight of someone who did more than sit around casinos all day. _Wow… maybe there **is **a god._ Realizing just what a lifetime of marching and swinging a machete did to a man's body, she wondered just which of Vulpes' myriad deities she should be thanking.

Skin against skin, they were pressed together on the ancient mattress. She imagined she could taste the cola he had been drinking earlier on his lips. Suddenly, Vulpes paused, pulling back slightly. His eyes met hers, as though waiting for an answer. Nodding, she reached up, pulling him closer with an arm around his neck.

The pair shared a groan as he slid into her. Maria pushed her hips up to meet his, hooking a leg around his waist. He was mumbling something she couldn't understand, gasping into her ear. One hand was on her hip, fingers digging into the flesh.

"There," Maria panted when Vulpes shifted slightly. He moved faster, spurred on by her gasps and cries. She had both legs wrapped around him, hands balled into fists behind his back. His skin was covered in sweat, movement becoming erratic. Toes curling, she felt pressure building inside her. If Vulpes was bothered by her heels digging into his back, he showed no sign of it. He grabbed her by the hair, turning Maria's face to him and kissing her roughly.

Slamming her hips up against his, she felt the tension that had been building within her break. Maria muffled her shrieks against his shoulder as he began pounding into her with a renewed enthusiasm. He was mumbling, half in English and half in Latin. Maria caught a reference to the gods before he froze above her. With a rough cry Vulpes collapsed onto her, sweaty and panting.

"_Mi pulcher nūntie_," he said after catching his breath, mouth close to her ear. _My beautiful… something_. Maria smiled. She couldn't even remember the last time someone had called her beautiful… in any language. Granted, she could barely remember the last time she spoke to someone who wasn't Vulpes or a trader, but it still felt good to hear.

"What is _nūntie_?" she asked.

He grinned at her. "Courier."

She laughed then. "You ass."

"You must admit, it sounded very impressive."

"It did," Maria agreed. They were staring at each other, now silent. His eyes, Maria decided, were the color of ice. She had never actually _seen_ ice, outside of the little cubes people put in drinks, but in her imagination the ice in the north was that shade of pale barely-blue, almost grey. There was ice in Denver. Had he ever seen it?

She was tempted to ask him what he was thinking, but resisted the urge. It was so painfully stereotypical, like a bad joke men told about women, but Maria really was dying to know what thoughts were running through his mind at the moment.

Of course, knowing Vulpes, it was probably plans for taking control of the Legion. Routes to cross the river. Something practical. Without giving in to the temptation, Maria settled back into the bed. Vulpes followed suit.

"What was your second reason?" he said, breaking the silence.

"Huh?"

"You said there were two reasons you knew I didn't write that poem. What was the second?"

She grinned at him. "Vulpes, you would _never_ write poetry."

"How do you know?" he asked. "I might… if I felt particularly inspired."

"No, you would _never_ write poetry. I'm honestly surprised you memorized a poem at all. Did you read it when you were learning Latin or something?"

He looked offended. "Well, _someone _isn't going to hear the poem I wrote her…"

She poked him in the shoulder. "Don't lie. I know you."

He looked at her for a moment before smiling. "You do," Vulpes admitted. "No poetry. Not even for you." He looked thoughtful. "It just seems like such a waste of time. Decadent foolishness."

"I figured that's what you would say."

"Are you disappointed?" he asked.

"Nah," she replied. "They are a bit… frivolous. Fun, but, you know… not important. I think the guys who wrote those didn't have armies trying to hunt them down like we do. Staying alive is much nicer than getting pretty words."

"True enough," he agreed. "Would it help if I offered to scorch the earth for you in lieu of poetry?" He was kidding… mostly.

"Hey, sure," she said, grinning at him. "It'll happen regardless, might as well convince myself it's some kind of gift."

* * *

"You seemed… surprised," Vulpes said. He was running a finger up and down her arm absentmindedly, enjoying touching where that pre-war gadget had been. The skin was lighter than the rest of her arm, although still considerably darker than his own flesh.

"I was!" Maria replied.

He looked over, she was serious. "I don't understand how," Vulpes said. "For months now I've spent the majority of my waking hours sneaking glances at you." He had assumed she knew, and was simply waiting for him to make the 'first move,' as the dissolute called it. It seemed so obvious to him, how could Maria not have seen it?

Of course, he had only the slightest suspicion it was mutual.

"I wondered, on occasion, but…"

"Yes?"

"I always figured if you were interested in me you wouldn't have made any secret of that. You're not exactly shy."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Maria, have you forgotten about your tendency to _shoot_ people when they touch you? I was in fear for my life!"

"You're so full of shit."

He chuckled. "Well, perhaps I exaggerate. A little. Although really, for all your talk of equality, you certainly seemed content to wait for me."

"Funny how that works out," she said. "But who am I to argue with several thousand years of cultural standards?" Maria grinned at him. "Well, when they favor _me_, at least."

"Hypocrite."

"You keep saying that," she mused, dark eyes betraying how amused she was. "Didn't seem to stop you from jumping into bed with me, though."

"I didn't _jump_," he pointed out. "You did, though. And then you pulled me in." He had found it rather flattering, to be honest. Part of him worried she simply would have gone along with everything… just assuming he would force her regardless. He could admit that Legion _had_ earned their reputation when it came to that sort of thing.

"I did," she admitted, rolling to her side and smiling at him. He wasn't about to complain.

Her skin that had been hidden under clothing was a patchwork of scars, far worse than he had imagined. It didn't bother him. Vulpes had more than a few scars of his own, after all. He saw the scars as physical evidence of her strength and humanity. She didn't drown herself in stim-packs the moment she received a papercut, unlike most of the dissolute. More than that, though, her scars were untold stories. He knew where his own originated, hers were old battles and past adventures, the building blocks of who she was today. "What is this?" he asked, tracing a finger between her breasts.

Maria made a face. "A bunch of mad-scientist robots kidnapped me," she said. "They cut out my heart. Other stuff, too. Put machine bits inside." Vulpes pulled his hand back, horrified. Either she was being honest, in which case she was, well, _inhuman_, or she was completely mad. Regardless of which it was, he suddenly felt the need to scrub himself. "I got them back," Maria assured him, as if reading his mind. "It was horrible, having to walk around knowing parts of me weren't… me. It made me feel like I wasn't really a human anymore, like I was some kind of robot or monster. Completely disgusting."

Mad, then. Better than the alternative, at least. "Where was this?" Vulpes asked.

"Big Empty," came her reply. "I guess it was some kind of research lab, back in the old days. Big Mountain. The scientists turned themselves into… well, kinda like brainbots, just before the war." She didn't _sound_ like she was mad. "I heard this crazy radio broadcast so I went to check it out. It was broadcasting from an old outdoor… cinema? Was that the word?"

"I think so," he said.

"One of those," she said. "Where they watched vids from their cars."

"I've seen that place," he said. "The sign said _drive in_. I think that was the name."

"Huh," she said. "I always figured that was, like, an instruction. Drive in. Like, come in. But with a car." Maria shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "Anyways," she finally says, "I get there and it's like… boom, something hit me and I blacked out. I don't even know _how_. I wake up and I'm in Big Empty."

"Mountain… MT…. Empty," he said, seeing the evolution of the name. "Interesting. Like Two Sun." He had heard the legends of Big Empty, of course, but never met anyone who claimed to have been there. He did know of people who left to seek it out, though- none ever returned.

"Exactly," she agreed. Maria rolled to her stomach, head pillowed on her folded arms. Vulpes was able to see the scar he had felt earlier, when his hands were on her back. Running the length of her spine, it was precise, even surgical, just like the one in the front. It seemed clear she had rolled over to hide the scar on her chest, either embarrassed or bothered by his reaction. Vulpes pulled his hand away quickly before she became even more uncomfortable, resisting the urge to ask about that one as well. "They did something with my spine, too," she said quietly as his fingertips withdrew from the old injury. Shifting as she turned her head to face him, he caught a glimpse of yet _another_ scar, hidden just under her hairline at the nape of her neck.

No fight could have caused such exact injuries.

"By the gods," he whispered, realizing it was true. "What monstrosities the old world held." Reaching over, Vulpes brushed Maria's hair back from her face, letting it run through his hands. He wanted her to know she didn't repulse him. Laying back down, he pulled her over to him. Her skin was warm. "The more I learn about the years leading up to the bombs, the more I understand why Mars decided it had to be destroyed." He felt painfully confused. Why would any sane human develop such sciences? To what end? Vulpes was not a stupid man, but no matter how he tried his mind couldn't formulate a single reasonable explanation. It made no sense even as some means of punishment or torture. The more he tried to contemplate the reasoning the more he found himself filling with rage, imagination bombarding him with horrifying visions of whatever Maria must have faced.

Vulpes came to a decision. If the gods saw fit to give him victory, he would use all his power to see this Big MT destroyed. He would bring her there, so she could walk in the ashes.

"And people want to start it all over again," she said, voice full of contempt. "You know, I've got this… gun-thing, it lets me go back there if I want. It's locked up in a box at the Lucky 38."

He looked at her. "Have you been back?"

"No," she said. "I haven't been ready." She turned, looking at him and sitting up. "They kidnapped me. Experimented on me. Treated me like some kind of _animal_," her voice became louder, she jabbed her pointer finger into her open palm with each point rattled off. "When I do go back, it's going to be so I can watch that place _burn_." Her dark eyes were determined, jaw set. It was beautiful.

Vulpes smiled at her. "I have long admired that about you," he said. "You have a remarkable desire for justice. It is… a rare trait." Touching the scar once more, he could feel her heart beating below it: human and strong.

"No one else sees it as a good thing."

"Then they're fools… or cowards. If you are wronged it is only natural to seek restitution. That's one of the things that separate the weak from the strong. Cowards may _call_ it revenge, but really, what is it if not justice?"

Maria smiled, and he knew she agreed. "What is this," she asked, fingertips brushing his bicep. A small row of tiny scars formed the shape of a mouth.

"That," he looked over at her hand. "That was a long time ago." He chuckled, remembering. "We were near the border of Colorado when a group of junkies apparently decided they could no longer bear their wretched existence."

"So they decided on suicide by Legion?" she said.

"They did. It's surprisingly popular," he confirmed. "The decanus was taken by surprise. He fell, a single bullet in the head. No one else seemed ready to step forward, so I did. We subdued the fiends, although one did manage to bite me as we crucified them. If it hadn't been my own arm I would have been rather impressed, if only by the strength of his teeth."

"What did you do?"

Vulpes shrugged. "I might have broken his jaw, but really, I was already crucifying him. What more could I do to make that any worse?" He smiled at the memory. "It was all for the best, though. When we returned to Caesar he promoted me to Decanus in charge of my contubernia for stepping forward and taking charge as I did." At times Vulpes was more proud of that moment than he was of the day Caesar elevated him to the leader of the Frumentarii. It was, in many ways, the first time he had really distinguished himself. He often wondered about what would have happened, had he stayed in the background and let one of the more seasoned men step forward when the Decanus fell. He suspected the answer was nothing. He would have remained a Legionary… and likely amounted to little else.

That was, of course, vanity. Most in the Legion considered vanity a flaw. Do what you should, follow your orders, and be satisfied with your place in the world. Striving for personal advancement was something profligates did. Men of the Legion should advance the Legion. That was what he had been taught, that was how he had been raised. Even so, it was not necessarily something Vulpes agreed with. He saw a great deal of benefit to rewarding exemplary service. Ambition pushed men to work harder, strive for more. Ambition was why he stepped in for the Decanus. Of course, ambition was also why he pushed that contubernia through the enemy line despite orders, an act that nearly caused his death.

But, he ended up rewarded for that as well. Doubly so, perhaps, since ambition then drove him to cautiously work through the upper ranks of the Frumentarii, eliminating men one by one, until he stood at the top. Now even Mars knew his name.

"How old were you?" she asked.

Smiling, Vulpes said "Sixteen? Perhaps seventeen?" For years he had invented accomplishments to impress women in New Vegas. He used the false achievements of Vince Fox, a man who never existed, to win their affection and charm away their secrets. It was nice, for once, to have a real accomplishment he could share. It was egotism, he knew that. It didn't make him want to impress her any less, though. Especially since he wasn't playing the spy with her, for once he had no ulterior motive. Well, beyond the typical reasons men bragged about their accomplishments to women. "Something close to that."

"So young," Maria said, looking sad as her fingertips brushed his cheek. "Did you have any childhood at all?"

Or he could earn her pity.

That was _substantially_ less desirable.

"Did you?" he countered, all but spitting the words at her. Maria drew back from him, and he felt a twinge of guilt. "I apologize," Vulpes said quickly, bothered by the hurt on her face. She hadn't intended to offend him; her words were some sort of misplaced kindness. Maria only knew a world of corruption, a lazy culture where women bled, men shaved, and both still pranced about in the guise of children for years afterwards shirking any semblance of responsibility. That she had any moral fiber at all was a miracle. "That was… unnecessary of me."

"It's all right," she said, curled up next to him once more. "I know I did. Even if I don't remember much of it." He repressed his sigh, once again reminding himself she was ignorant. When she saw the Legion lands, when she saw true order and civilization, she would understand.


	15. Ring of Fire

He had difficulty sleeping, not accustomed to having someone else in bed with him. Maria kept moving closer and closer in her sleep, before finally ending up half on him. When Vulpes became tempted to shake her off and demand to know if she had somehow failed to notice it was well over a hundred degrees out, he decided to get up instead.

They would be leaving soon- likely that evening. The NCR would come looking for the ranger who had stayed behind, after all, when she didn't return. There was one thing he could do before they crossed the river, though.

Dressing in his full armor, Vulpes crept out, carefully locking the door and setting several traps on the stairs. He had left a note to Maria, warning her of the danger, just in case she woke before he returned. Although he wasn't thrilled with the idea of leaving her unconscious and alone, he knew this would be easier.

She would certainly have argued had she known his plan. A fight after the fact would be much more easily resolved.

When he returned he found the traps armed and undisturbed, Maria still safely in bed.

How someone so slim could manage to fill an entire double bed, he had no idea, but somehow she was accomplishing just that. Blankets kicked off into a pile on the floor, she had rolled to the center of the mattress, lying on her stomach.

She stirred as he crawled onto the bed, stretching out over her. "Did I wake you?" Vulpes asked quietly, knowing he had.

"Nah," she whispered, turning her head so she could see him. She made a face, nose crinkling. "Do you smell smoke?" Squirming below him, she raised her head, sniffing again. "_You_ smell like smoke."

"It's nothing," Vulpes said, kissing her neck. "I'll tell you later." He had no interest in talking at the moment. She dropped the subject quickly, realizing what he was interested in at that moment.

She was warm below him, pliant and willing. Maria seemed even more enthusiastic than the first time. Her legs were clamped around him like a vise, mouth on his neck. Meeting her eyes, Vulpes felt his breath catch briefly. With a final shout to the gods, he collapsed above her, burying his face in her hair.

She seemed reluctant to let go of him, even after they finished. After a moment Maria unhooked her legs from around his hips, dropping her hands from his shoulders at the same time. Rolling to his back, Vulpes smiled as he stretched out. With a start, he realized this was likely the happiest he had been in several years. At least since Caesar was still alive.

"I thought you weren't coming back," was what Maria said quietly as he rolled over, causing his mood to crash.

"You _what_?" Vulpes sat up, looking at her with surprise. "You thought I would just vanish while you were asleep?" he shook his head. "Really?"

"You were gone when I got up…"

"You didn't see the note?"

"Note?" He groaned, getting up and walking across the room. Returning, Vulpes handed her a piece of paper that had been tacked to the door.

_Maria- Had to take care of something, will return shortly. The stairs are bugged- mines and bear traps. Use caution. If the traps go off, start shooting. (I would greatly appreciate you confirming it isn't me before pulling the trigger.) -Vulpes_

"Oh," she said, looking embarrassed. "I guess I'm an idiot."

"You're from an unhealthy society," he said, trying to be diplomatic. "It isn't an unreasonable conclusion." To be fair, it _wasn't_ unusual for a man to disappear in the night in New Vegas. Vulpes had done it himself while undercover.

"Is yours any better?" she asked, looking at him.

Vulpes sighed, considering that. "In that regard? Perhaps not." He laid back down. "If I wanted to fuck you and leave I would have used some absurd line, and I certainly wouldn't have waited for months." One of his arms was over his face, blocking the sun that was coming in through the window. "This isn't going to make life any simpler for either of us," Vulpes pointed out.

"I know," she agreed, pulling the blankets up from the floor and wrapping herself in them. After a moment she adjusted them to share with him.

"I don't think you really do," Vulpes said. "The moment we cross that river, you are a liability. The benefits I may gain from having a second set of eyes to keep watch and a second gun in a fight are vastly overshadowed by the risks I face traveling with a woman. A woman known to be an enemy of the Legion, no less. That isn't something to take lightly. Keeping _you_ alive, or even just keeping you… safe, will likely be far more challenging than keeping myself alive." He didn't want to tell her how difficult it would be to keep her from getting raped when Caesar's orders to leave her alone had died with him. Judging by her expression, she had figured it out.

She rolled to her side. "So what happens?"

"I don't know," he said, looking at her. "Success would make me Caesar. Failure… well, I don't believe I would live very long." Maria nodded, expression telling him she had already known this. "You would likely fare worse in that regard." She nodded again, mouth pinched tight. He had made a point of ignoring the ugly truth for too long. "I wouldn't fault you if you wanted to part ways."

She was quiet for a moment. "What do you want, though?"

"I want you with me," he said finally. "It is selfish, and probably not terribly intelligent, but…" He trailed off, unsure how to finish the statement.

"Yes," she said. "It is. And I feel like I'm signing my own death warrant crossing that river."

Vulpes didn't reply. He couldn't argue. She was right. If he did succeed… perhaps he could send for her. That was always a possibility.

"See, this is why I don't like planning stuff," Maria said, interrupting his thoughts. "Let's stop talking about this."

He made a noise of surprise as she hooked a leg over his, tossing her arm across his chest.

"I'm just as dead if I stay here," she said finally. "I don't belong anywhere anymore." That said, she fell silent. Before long Maria was sleeping, breath hot on his shoulder.

Vulpes was alone when he woke. The blankets tangled around him smelled like the dust of several centuries and, more strongly, sex. _So it did happen_, he thought. For a moment he had wondered if the entire thing was some kind of bizarre dream. Stretching, he sat up and glanced around. A look over at the window revealed that it was nearing dusk.

_This could be a good thing_, he mused, glancing outside and attempting to see the situation from all sides. Maria was sitting near the water, fiddling with small objects spread out around her. It would be far easier for people to accept Maria's presence in Legion lands if she was his. Many officers in the legion had mistresses, so it might not even raise eyebrows.

Well, no, that was a lie. Returning with the courier who aided the NCR would do quite a bit more than raise eyebrows. And he couldn't think of a single man whose mistress could hit a raider between the eyes with a 10mm bullet while swinging a machete in her off hand. However, this recent change would make it far _less_ problematic than simply wandering around with a dissolute woman at his side. At the very least, if he had a claim on her it would keep her safer from the attentions of anyone else.

If it came down to it, Vulpes was fairly confident he could portray winning her affection as a slap to the NCR. It would take some talking, but talking was always something he had been good at.

* * *

Maria sat on the dock, feet dangling in the water. From here she couldn't see the smoke billowing over the horizon, which was exactly why she picked the location.

When she woke in the mid-afternoon to find herself alone, she had been upset. _Brilliant,_ she thought, realizing Vulpes had disappeared. Apparently the 'gone before she wakes up' thing existed in the Legion, too. She had buried her face into the pillow, crying as much from embarrassment and shame as from hurt. For years she had been careful about getting involved with anyone. She thought, hoped, he would be different. They hadn't just met at some casino bar. He treated her with respect.

Or so she thought.

It was stupid, really. He was in the _Legion_. Of _course_ he was gone. She was lucky he hadn't slapped a slave collar on her. Being used and forgotten was probably the _best_ she could have hoped for, really.

When Maria heard him come back she tried to remain silent. Had he changed his mind?

She could hear something dropping. After a moment Maria realized it was armor. The mattress creaked after a moment, protesting under his weight as he climbed on.

She had thought he was planning to slip silently into bed, but instead Vulpes actually climbed right onto her. The smell of smoke filled her nose, but he changed the subject when she asked about it. Brushing aside her questions, he slid a hand under her. His skin was hot against her bare back, hand cupping one breast. "I'll tell you later," he whispered, mouth brushing her neck.

It wasn't long before she had forgotten all about the smell of smoke. Just as well, since Vulpes didn't seem inclined to explain it to her.

Not that he had much to explain. The source of the smell… and where he had disappeared, became very apparent as soon as she was awake. The black clouds she saw pouring into the sky above the NCR ranger station a couple miles away did the explaining for him, and a quick walk up the hill confirmed the source of the flames.

Maria had a pit in her stomach looking at the fire.

_Look_, she told herself, not giving in to the urge to turn her head. A window had been broken in one of the buildings, a body half-hanging out. Blonde hair was charred at the ends, tumbling half-free from whatever means the owner had used to keep it in place. A cap was on the ground below the body.

The smoke must have overcome them before they could climb the rest of the way. Or it broke after they were already unconscious or dead.

_He did this_. One of the buildings was still in flames, black smoke billowing high overhead. _Vulpes got up, dressed, left you naked and asleep, and did this. _She realized it was very likely these people had been dying at the same moment Vulpes was crawling back into bed with her. They could have been screaming in pain while she laid in their killer's arms.

Maria wanted to be horrified. She felt like she should loathe him.

Walking back, she felt angry, but it seemed to be for all the wrong reasons. Once she had returned to the old campground, she intentionally took up a spot at the end of the dock only because it was impossible to see the fire from there.

The door of the office building told her Vulpes was awake. Glancing over, she could see him walking in her direction. Even from across the camp she could see his gait was more… cheerful than usual. Cass's voice echoed in her head, _someone got lucky._ It normally would have made her laugh.

Vulpes sat next to her, immediately gathering and packing the completed chems she had been making, setting the syringes and stimpacks carefully into her medical kit.

"Morning," she said.

"Good morning," he replied, clearly waiting for whatever else she had to say.

"So… I take it at some point while I was sleeping you crept off and torched the Ranger station?" He glanced back at the direction of the small NCR outpost, dark smoke was still billowing into the air.

"I did," he agreed.

"Why?"

"Why?" he asked.

"Yes, _why?_" she replied.

"Because I loathe the NCR," he said. "Because I know we're leaving so they won't be able to retaliate in time. Because I wanted properly to say goodbye to this corrupt cesspool. Because I _could_."

"Someone could be on their way here right now," she said.

"Likely," he agreed. "We'll be long gone by then. They'll wait until dawn."

"They have _radios_," she said. Maria was genuinely concerned.

"I knocked out the radio tower first," he said. "Well, no, second. I killed the man on guard first. After that I knocked out the radios and chained the doors shut."

"You chained the doors shut?"

"Of course," he said. "And then I set the fire and came back." He leaned closer. "Don't worry; I had set traps on the stairs here. You were perfectly safe. I wouldn't have left you alone otherwise."

"Vulpes, that isn't the point," she said.

"Then what is the point? You're clearly angry with me."

"I'm angry with _me_," she said. He was waiting for her to go on and Maria sighed. "I should be horrified or disgusted. You _chained_ doors shut and burned people alive. That's insane."

"You're _not_ horrified?" he asked. "You _look_ horrified."

"I am," she said. "That isn't why. It _should _be why, but right now all I can think is… you could have died there. You could have been caught and killed, and I _never _would have known. You'd just be gone."

"I didn't think of that," he admitted.

"You should have," she said. "And really, do you _always_ have to torture people before killing them? Can't you just stick to shooting them in the face and cutting off heads?"

"I wanted to send a message," he said. "The vast majority of people I kill do just get shot. You don't see me breaking out rope and planks to put up a cross in the middle of a firefight, do you?"

"I'd probably want to open your skull back up and see if I missed any chunks of lead if you started to do that," Maria said.

"Fair enough."

"So what was the message you wanted to send?" she finally asked.

He shrugged. "It's probably going to sound egotistical," Vulpes admitted. She stared at him, waiting for more. More than half of what Vulpes said could sound egotistical in the right light, Maria was really curious to know what _he_ would think went over the top. "I wanted them to be as terrified of me now as they were four years ago."

"I don't think the NCR ever _stopped _being afraid of you."

"You did."

"That's different," she said. "The NCR doesn't count on you to keep them from being eaten by a deathclaw in their sleep. And the NCR doesn't eat all my candy." He opened his mouth and Maria smiled, going on. "You've polished off like five boxes of gumdrops in a week, Vulpes. Don't even lie. I know what there was before, and now there's none."

He narrowed his eyes. "That isn't the point," Vulpes said coldly. Maria tried not to laugh. "The point is, I wanted them to know that I'm still alive, and still a threat."

"And chaining people into a room before burning them to death tells them this?"

"No, the note I left tells them this. The chains just prove my point."

"You left a _note_?"

He looked almost proud. "_All this, I did alone. Imagine what will happen when I return with an army_." And then I signed it and put it somewhere it wouldn't be missed. She didn't think she wanted to know where that was. "I attached it to the dead sentry with a railroad spike." He wanted to tell her anyways, apparently.

"You could really have kept the details of that to yourself," she said.

"Maybe I'm trying to keep you from forming any sort of illusions," he said with a shrug.

"Mission accomplished, then," she said.

"It really wasn't my goal to upset you," he said finally. "I just knew you would disapprove, so it seemed easier to take care of it while you were asleep."

She stared at him, attempting to parse the logic he was using. "It wasn't your goal to upset me," Maria repeated. "You just knew what you were going to do would upset me. So you figured you would do it without my knowing, so I couldn't… what, argue or try and stop you?"

"Exactly." He looked pleased with himself.

She stared at him for a moment. "Wow," was what Maria finally said.

"What?"

"Just for future reference, 'I knew you'd be pissed so I did it before you could stop me,' is about as valid an excuse as 'I didn't think I'd get caught.'"

"I don't make excuses," he said. "I'm merely explaining my reasoning. Going without a word in advance means there was a chance for one argument, instead of two." He took a drink of cola. "I thought you would appreciate that, my making an effort to avoid discord. Isn't that the way these things work?"

"Not… exactly," she said.

"Well then, I don't know what you expect of me," he said finally, throwing his hand in the air with annoyance. "You act as though I've broken some rule, but I frankly haven't the faintest idea what that would be."

_This shouldn't be surprising_, Maria told herself. He had no idea how to act with a woman that didn't wear a slave collar. Even when undercover, by his own admission, he was only mimicking what he had been told was normal. Vulpes hadn't the slightest idea _why_ people acted as they did. How could he? "I know," she said. "Let's just drop it for now."

"You really are maddening," he said.

"So are you!"

"Good," he said. "If I'm destined to go insane I'll drag you down with me. It would be nice to have some company while I'm talking to rocks and drooling on myself." Vulpes leaned back on his elbows. "You're practically a tribal savage, anyways, so I assume the change wouldn't be too dramatic for you."

Maria looked at his smug expression and smiled. "Well, _one _of us was born a tribal… and it wasn't me." He narrowed her eyes and she smirked. "So, do you have any good face-painting techniques you want to share? A nice way to go on a vision quest?"

"It's unfortunate," Vulpes mused. "Yesterday I could have punched you for that. Now, since we've shared a bed, hitting you would make me some sort of monster. Your society has very bizarre social conventions."

"Just _try_ punching me and see how that ends for you," she said.

He went silent, looking thoughtful. "I would assume it ends with a bullet wound, likely more than one, and a substantial quantity of blood on the ground that had once belonged to me." She laughed as he stood and started packing their bags onto the boat. "So where did you end up going this morning?" Vulpes finally asked.

"Huh?"

"Your legs are covered in soot."

"I just took a walk to see what was on fire. Had to drop something in the mail."

Vulpes stared at her in horror before bursting into laughter. "For a moment I almost believed that," he said. "Mail. As if you were that reckless..." Stepping onto the boat, he reached out for her. "We need to hurry," he said. "If this wind picks up that fire will spread."

_You're not allowed to even pretend to be a good person anymore,_ she thought, reaching out and taking his hand before stepping into the boat.

* * *

Arcade slammed his head on the table, groaning. The movement sent a sheet of paper floating to the ground, soot covered fingerprints still visible along one side.

_Hey Arcade!  
Miss you! Hope all is well in New Vegas. Is my casino still standing? If you guys want to open it and make some caps, go right ahead. I never did since I couldn't stand the idea of having to pass by all those people just to go home, but it's not like I'm around for them to annoy me. Looks like I'm probably going to be gone a bit longer at least… V and I are going to take over the Legion. Wish me luck! Tell Cass and Veronica I said hi. And Boone, if he doesn't hate me. (tell him I'm going to kill the new Casear if you think that'll help. I probably won't actually be the one to kill him since V is the one out for revenge and I couldn't take that from him, but he's going to end up dead either way. Or we will, but I'm being optimistic here.)  
xoxo_

_-M_

* * *

_A/N: Thanks so much to everyone adding this to their faves and alerts, and especially to all the people reviewing and sending me messages. I really appreciate it!  
Title is Johnny Cash. _


	16. Come Go with Me

Maria grabbed an oar, standing unsteadily.

"Absolutely not," Vulpes said, taking it from her. "Sit."

"I can help!" she said. "You know I'm not weak." She was trying to stare him down, expression suddenly angry. It didn't take a genius to realize what was actually bothering her.

"Maria, I swear this has nothing to do with your strength. However, it has _everything_ to do with the fact that you can't _swim_," Vulpes reminded her. "And I'm not sure I'll be able to see you in the dark to get you if you fall in. _Sit._"

With a pout she dropped to a sitting position and Vulpes let out a breath of relief. "You watch the compass, and keep that light on your arm ready. I'll manage the oar." It was more raft than boat, not even a canoe. Vulpes had sat in it many times, but never actually paid attention to what the cursor did to pilot the thing.

Looking over, he saw Maria had pulled her shoes off, feet dangling in the river. The expression on his face was probably rather easy to read, even in the dark. With a sigh, she pulled her legs back onto the raft. "Spoilsport," Maria complained, making a face at him.

"The water is infested with lakelurks," he said. "And, as we've previously discussed all of thirty seconds ago, you can't swim. Since I'm not a fucking _night stalker_, I can't see in the dark to find you when one pulls you overboard." He shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll mourn, of course… briefly. But if you insist, so be it. I don't want you to think I'm attempting to control you." He gave her a pointed look. Vulpes was more than aware of was was going through Maria's mind.

She narrowed her eyes. "Briefly?"

"Oh, an hour," he said, careful not to smirk. "Perhaps even two; I am rather fond of you, after all." She made a small sound of annoyance and he went on. "Don't get me wrong, I assure you during those hours I would be utterly distraught. But, really, I can't stop and mourn for days just because you decided to do something foolish and got yourself killed."

"You are _such_ an ass."

"So I've been told," he replied, maneuvering them away from the dock. "By you. Although it doesn't seem to actually bother you… or you have a very unusual way of showing your disapproval. In which case, I shouldn't have gone so far out of my way to be polite for so damned long." She was lying on her side, grinning up at him, clearly amused. "And can you not look like you're on a pleasure cruise while I do all the work?"

"Hey, I'm working," she said, making a dramatic and exaggerated show of examining her pip boy. "I'm navigating! Go… left. A little."

"Of course," he said, rolling his eyes. "Really, this can't be how you behaved when you last went to the Fort."

"Obviously not. I like _you_. I didn't like the guy who ran this boat before."

"Lucullus?" Vulpes said. "Why not?" He had always considered the man… well, dull. Deeply loyal, deeply faithful, and utterly lacking in anything that even vaguely resembled a personality beyond _Legionary. _To Vulpes he had seemed quiet, bland, and generally inoffensive. He was more like a chair, something neutral and silent. A chair that saluted and made the boat move. "The man was as exciting as a six foot tall bag of sawdust."

At this moment, Vulpes had wished he paid more attention to just _how_ he made the boat move all those times. His shoulders were aching already.

"_Women are physically and intellectually inferior to men," _she said in a mocking tone. "He said that to me… right to my face! Fucker. I can perform brain surgery… he rows a boat. Intellectually inferior my ass. Let's see him dig a bullet from someone's head and leave them alive to complain."

Vulpes was surprised at the venom in Maria's words. She was still clearly furious, even though several years had gone by since then.

"Lucullus is very… _traditional_," Vulpes said. "Believes that women should bear children, and men should do… well, everything else."

"Except for the horrible manual labor," she said with a snort.

"Exactly," Vulpes agreed. "So just imagine how he felt meeting you. All his life he was told men were superior… and then along comes a woman who isn't just smarter than him- she's smarter than most anyone he has ever known. _And_ he's been told you're a respected guest of Caesar. The poor man likely didn't know what to do with himself." Maria paused, beaming up at him, and just like that her near-daily _this is what is wrong with the Legion _lecture was averted before it could begin.

_That was simple enough_, Vulpes thought, feeling far more pleased than he expected. For months had been wondering if something was wrong with him; if perhaps the bullet to the head had caused more damage than he realized. His entire career- no, his entire adult _life,_ had been based on the ability to manipulate people and situations, after all. Suddenly finding himself stumbling over his words was confusing and, if he had to admit it, rather frightening.

He should have known. After all, it hadn't always been this way. He had been perfectly capable of maneuvering through conversations with Maria for weeks. Years, if he wanted to include the time from when they met. Ironically, his most successful feat of manipulation was the start of his bizarre awkwardness.

He was just _so_ _tired_ of her constant twitching whenever he walked too close, her silence, the dark circles under her eyes since she was too afraid of him to actually sleep when he was on watch. She was always nervous and that, in turn, made _him_ nervous. His instincts were thrown off by the signals Maria was sending: he expected that level of worry when an actual danger was present- not every moment of every day_._

She saw him as _Legion_. Vulpes knew he had to make her see him as _human_.

Once he devised a plan and put his mind to it, the execution was easy. Normally he would say emotion was a weakness. Someone should never know what you're really feeling, since it gave them power over you. Learning to mask that was one of the first lessons Vulpes had as a frumentarii. In this case, though, it seemed necessary to put that training aside. _I'm not a monster_, he said, making sure to sound as though he knew she thought he was, and it saddened him. He told her she was his only ally in the world. Vulpes actually let all the pain, frustration, and misery he had been feeling shine through in his voice.

The entire thing seemed so _wrong_. Revealing his feelings to some dissolute went against everything he had been taught.

And it had worked.

The problem was, as she warmed up to him, he found himself doing the same towards her. When Vulpes had to restrain himself from cutting out the eyes of a caravan guard who openly stared at her, he knew there was a problem. He soon found himself foolishly wondering what her skin felt like, asking her about whatever book she was reading just to listen to her voice, and stumbling over his words like an imbecile.

Had he known his sanity would return as soon as he bedded her, Vulpes would have attempted it much sooner. At the very least, it could have saved him from hearing _The Complete Works of Jane Austen _described in all their agonizing and melodramatic glory.

* * *

Maria couldn't help but smile at him. It may have been hollow flattery- in fact, she was almost positive it was nothing _but _empty words. That wasn't the point, though… he was making an attempt, and she appreciated it. It almost took the sting off her memory of the last time she had taken this boat.

She remembered stomping into Cottonwood Cove years ago, the mark of Caesar hanging around her neck. Maria had assumed it meant she was, in some way, special. When Vulpes had given it to her on the Strip, he had made an elaborate point of talking about what an honor it was in the most formal language possible. She_ had_ felt honored, in a sick way. How could she not?

House… well, at the time she wasn't even sure if House was _real_. Part of her suspected he was a sophisticated old computer program running a predesigned routine, or even some kind of prewar AI. She was curious about being let into the Lucky 38, but ultimately assumed it was simply since she was the last person to touch the one thing House wanted- that damned chip.

The NCR asked her to talk to some bureaucrat who acted like he was too busy to meet with her and only wanted her to run errands, anyways.

Caesar, though… Caesar was real, and he was _important._ Everyone knew who he was. It would be like if President Kimball suddenly asked for her time. His messenger was polite and acted like her time was worth something. It wasn't just getting a sheet of paper shoved in her hand by someone who barely said two words before walking off, as she did when the NCR asked her to meet with the ambassador.

She had expected everyone else to treat her with the same respect Vulpes had shown in New Vegas, or at the very least, a bare minimum of civility. It was probably childish of her. The sneer she had received walking up the dock, accompanied by open contempt, was a harsh awakening.

_It was smart_, she had told Cass later. _They send the one guy who can talk to a woman like she's a human being. Probably knew I wouldn't go if they sent some asshole._

Cassidy had agreed before laughing and adding, _I figured they just sent him because he was the prettiest. _

In retrospect, maybe they were both right.

"And what do you believe?" Maria teased him.

"Yes, clearly I'm very traditional," he said drily. "Now make me dinner, woman, and stop speaking." He paused briefly. "Actually, if you could dig something to eat out of one of the bags I would appreciate it. I haven't had anything today."

"Arson is hungry work," she said, fishing around fishing around in one of the bags. "Here," she said. "Candy."

He grabbed it from her hand, ripping the cardboard top off with his teeth and spitting it into the water.

"I could have opened it for you."

"'s fine," he said through a mouthful of sugar.

"I am constantly amazed you have any teeth left at all."

Vulpes swallowed what he had been chewing and laughed. "I suppose the gods do favor me," he said before sitting down carefully. "You know, this really has to be the _worst_ job. It's awful. I can barely keep my balance, my arm is tired, and my back is starting to hurt." He grumbled.

"So what now?"

"The current will get us there eventually," he said. "Just slower. Maybe it would be easier if I could see. I feel like I'm fighting the water only because I can't see the shoreline." He had sat facing her, laying the oar between them where it couldn't roll overboard. "No wonder Lucullus always acted like he had a stick up his ass. It was probably this damned oar." Vulpes paused looking at her. "I wasn't being literal there," he said.

"Wow, you don't say," she replied. "The oar is taller than me. I suspect jamming it up anyone's ass would likely kill them."

"And rather painfully at that," he agreed.

Maria smiled at him, clearly amused. She had noticed his sense of humor was surprisingly close to her own; it was likely why they got along when they had so little else in common.

He wasn't laughing now, though. Vulpes was looking around, taking in the landscape. Watching him, she could actually see him becoming tenser by the moment. Before long, he had a gun out. Maria followed suit. They were now both eyeing the dark water warily. "I don't like this," Vulpes said after a moment.

"Me neither," Maria agreed. "Why did we decide to do this at night? And by _we_ I mean _you_."

"Because I wasn't thinking clearly. For the record, I blame you." She couldn't be surprised he was trying to pass the blame.

"How is that my fault? You control your own brain. I mostly follow you around looking confused." Really, she mostly followed him since he couldn't tell she was looking at his butt, but Vulpes didn't need to know that.

"No, I'm fairly sure there was a two or three day stretch when your legs were completely in control of my brain."

"My legs?"

"And your hips. Well, that entire general… area. You're a very distracting person, you know." Well, that would explain why he was always trying to walk behind _her._

Maria couldn't stop herself from giggling. "I don't think I've ever been told that."

"More proof that you surround yourself with idiots," he said. "But, to that end, now that I can't actually _see_ your legs, I'm thinking much more clearly."

"Gonna push me overboard, then?"

"Maybe later," he said. "My arms are really very tired right now."

"Lucky for me."

"Indeed," he agreed. "And I'm actually being serious. We need a plan."

"A plan?" Maria raised her eyebrows. "You want _me_ to help with a plan?"

"I don't see why not," he replied. "You have… a unique perspective." Vulpes looked to the land. "One moment." Maria watched him raise his rifle, pumping off three shots in quick succession. She heard a sound of pain from the shoreline. "Right then," he went on. "I don't believe it would be wise to simply… attack."

"Not if you want to live more than an hour," she agreed. "And you _totally_ could have seen to fish me out in the dark if I fell in. Liar."

He chuckled. "Maybe I just didn't want to go back in this damned water," he said. "Haven't I spent more than enough time swimming this week?"

"Sorry," Maria said again. "I just… never learned. There was this one time, in a vault. Had to get something in a flooded out area. Cass went in for me, since I couldn't. She was going to teach me how but it never came up again. The 38 doesn't have a pool." She didn't know why she felt so guilty about not knowing how to swim. They lived in a desert. A _desert_. Obviously she couldn't swim. He was clearly the strange one here. Regardless, though, there was something she found herself unable to do. Something that left her helpless. It wasn't a situation she enjoyed.

"A casino that size?" he looked surprised.

"It was emptied years ago… if it ever actually was filled. When I got there it was full of all the shit that kept House alive. Electronics and stuff. I never had it ripped out since, well, I can't swim."

"Ah," was all he said. "I can teach you to swim. I even have a pool at home. Not that I ever use it."

"You have a pool?" she was surprised to hear that. Maria tried to picture Vulpes sitting around on a deck, umbrella drink in hand, and failed miserably.

"Behind my house," he said. He paused. "That is, assuming I still _have_ a house in Flagstaff. Someone else could be living there for all I know; I haven't seen it in nearly five years."

"You have a _house?"_

He laughed. "You sound shocked. Really, I was head of Caesar's intelligence network. Did you think I lived in a scrap metal shack?" Vulpes sounded genuinely surprised.

"I've never known anybody who had a house," Maria said. "Well, my mom did. But that doesn't count… I mean, that was my mom. I've never known anyone, like, my age with a house."

Vulpes coughed. "Um, yes… first thing. You own a _casino_. My house pales in comparison to the Lucky 38."

"I only have a casino because I killed the old owner and never left."

"How do you think I got my house?" he asked, smiling.

Maria laughed then. "I can't say I'm surprised. What's the second thing?"

"Well," Vulpes began, sounding unsure. "I don't know if I would actually be considered _your_ age."

"Fuck," she mumbled, and he winced. "How much younger than me are you?"

"What?" Vulpes burst into laughter. "No, it's actually the opposite." He was still chuckling. "You really thought I was _younger_ than you? I'm head of the damned Frumentarii. It takes some time to get to that rank." He was still laughing. "I thought Ulysses told you I was the one who pacified his tribe? Did you think I managed that at nine?!"

"I'm not good with ages," Maria admitted. He made sense, of course. She should have figured that much out a long time ago. The Legion didn't recruit adults, and Ulysses was at least as old as her… which meant his tribe had to have been brought under Caesar's control at least ten years ago- probably more. "I thought Arcade was my age for the longest time. He's like _forty_, though. I mean, wow."

"Perhaps I should push you overboard…"

"You're _forty_?" she couldn't stop herself from squeaking out. It was… surprising.

"No!"

"Are you going to tell me, or do I have to keep guessing?"

"Well…" Vulpes began, sounding embarrassed. "My tribe didn't really celebrate _birthdays_, so to speak. They measured age in how many summers you had seen… so I may be off by a few months."

"Spill it."

"I loathe you."

"Even more lies!" Maria said. "If you hated me you wouldn't care what I thought about you. And you probably would have killed me ages ago. Come on, tell me, it's your fault I'm really curious. I'll tell you how old I am."

"You're twenty five," he said. "Very recently. You listed April 1, 2261 as your date of birth when you applied for a job with the Mojave Express, in 2278. You put your hometown down as Carbon, which was crossed out and replaced with New Adytum. That was also crossed out. Under the line you then wrote Boulder City. Why, I have no idea. I don't know which, if any, is true. They almost didn't hire you, because you were only seventeen. The only reason they did was because you told them you could read English, Spanish, and Latin." He leaned forward. "A bit of a stretch on that last one, wouldn't you say?"

"Huh," Maria said. "Maybe I could then. It does seem like learning it has been a bit too easy, you know?" he didn't comment beyond nodding slightly. "How do you know so much about me?"

"I told you, I had a profile on you."

"You also told me I knew everything in it."

He shrugged. "I lied. I was drugged half out of my mind and worried you would kill me."

"Ouch. Even when I told you I wouldn't?"

"Can you really be surprised?" he asked. "It isn't an exaggeration to say everyone else on that side of the river wants to kill me. How was I to know you were insane?"

"Says the man who talks to ancient warrior gods," she replied.

"I notice you don't deny your own madness," he said. "Of course, I can't blame you for that. It has to be very frustrating."

"I can't blame you for changing the subject away from your horrifyingly advanced age, either, old man."

Vulpes made a face at her before he groaned, rubbing his eyes with both hands. "Does it actually matter?"

"Obviously not, since I didn't bring it up and probably never would have," Maria said. "But now I'm curious."

"I'm probably thirty seven."

Maria stared at him, trying to see his face better in the dark. "Huh," she finally said when he looked up, light from the moon catching the side of his expression. "Wow."

"Stop it."

"Nah, I seriously would never have guessed that." She snickered, reaching over to jab his leg with one finger. "Cradle robber."

"Thank you," Vulpes said drily. "I'm really not regretting being _honest_ with you, or beginning to think I should do otherwise in the future."

"Oh stop," Maria said. "I'm only teasing. I'm a grown adult. I even own a casino, remember?" He did relax then. Maria suspected Vulpes didn't actually care; he was just concerned _she_ would care.

* * *

She was watching the shoreline carefully, rifle across her lap. "So," Maria said, not actually looking away to face him, "who did you kill to get your house?"

"The former leader of the Frumentarii."

"Where did you live before that?"

"A smaller house." Vulpes had no idea why she was interested.

"How did you get that one?"

"Same thing… but it was the former second in command of the Frumentarii. Why does any of this matter?"

"Just curious," she said. "I don't really know much about your life from before we knew each other. Well, besides the scary stories." She glanced over at him then, winking. "So… you've basically been slaughtering your way to the top, one man at a time?" Her eyebrows arched with what he suspected was amusement. When he didn't answer she chuckled. "Thought so. How come you stopped where you did?"

"What else would I have done?" he asked. "I'm not exactly suited to be Legate, and I would never have raised a hand against Caesar: he was the _son of Mars_!" Vulpes wanted to be shocked she would ask such a thing… but it wasn't the first time that question had been placed before him.

"You really believe that?" she asked.

"This again?" He had no desire to hear her talking about books, or whatever lies the profligates had spread to explain Caesar's divinity. "If you're asking me whether or not I believe that Mars fucked the woman who bore the man named Edward Sallow then, well, of course not. I'm not mentally deficient. If you mean do I believe Mars chose that man to be his son later on, then yes."

"Seems like most of your, um… comrades? They believe the first one."

"Propaganda," came the response.

"My, my…" Maria was clearly amused.

"Just as well that you know," he told her. "I'll have the same belief spread about myself eventually." It was cynical, he knew, but a necessity. Vulpes didn't want to talk about that, though. The entire conversation was making him feel uneasy. They would be dealing with the byzantine politics of the Legion soon enough. Thinking about it left a pit in his stomach.

"That's it," Maria said after a moment.

"What?"

"You're not the kick in the door and kill everyone type," she said. "I mean, _I _might be, but you really aren't. You're much more the… knife in the dark type."

"I'm perfectly capable of kicking in doors when necessary." He didn't like her implication. Vulpes had spent years gritting his teeth whenever Lanius made jokes about him, implying he couldn't manage an honest fight, that he was cowardly because he didn't wander through life punching his way through everything. She couldn't do the same and expect him to sit in silence.

"I know _that_," Maria said, almost dismissively. "I've been in how many fights with you? I'm just saying… it's not your, you know, thing. "

"I assume you have a point?"

"No, just like hearing my own voice," she said. "Of course I have a point. I'm saying, you're _really good_ at killing your way to the top. Being sneaky. Why not, you know, do that?"

Vulpes smiled then, seeing her point. "It would give me some time to build allegiances…" He considered that. "I'll need to think on it a bit longer but I have to say, that is the best idea so far." She looked incredibly pleased.

There was a faint beep, almost too soft for him to hear. Maria immediately raised her arm, tapping a button. "Ooohh…" she gasped.

"What?"

"Want to have some fun?" she grinned at him, face illuminated by her pip boy.

"That question is… very vague," he said.

"Vault," she said, holding her arm out for him to see the map. "Vault… twenty four. Over there."

"It _beeps_ when you get near a vault?"

"It beeps when I get near a new mark on the map," she said. "I think all the vaults are on it. These things were made for Vault-Tec, after all. Come on, let's go look. How do we… um… land this thing?"

"Land?" He was already standing up, internally berating himself for giving in so easily. "It's not a rocket, Maria. I think you mean _dock_."

"Whatever," she said. "Do it. Come on. It's a _Vault._ Vaults have the _best_ stuff. Who knows what's in there!" He was worried she would actually jump overboard and swim towards shore. She was nearly _twitching_.

"You're a lunatic," he said, still carefully guiding the boat towards shore. At least they could walk from here.

"But it's a _vault_," she insisted again, bouncing in place.

"All right, all right," Vulpes said. "You can see I'm trying to get to the shore. Calm down before you fall overboard." She scrambled off the raft as soon as they hit ground. Already checking to make sure her pistol was armed, Maria dug through her bag, pulling out a pill bottle and shaking a few free. "Rad-away," she explained, handing him a few. "Just in case."

"Fine," he said, shoving them in a pocket, where they could stay unless he absolutely needed them. "I can't believe I'm going along with this."

"It's going to be _so_ fun," Maria said, jabbing him in the arm with a needle before he could object. "Only rad-x," she said, which didn't make him any happier. "A lot of these are really irradiated. The reactors they used weren't the safest." He wasn't feeling any better about the plan. "Just wait. Exploring is the very best thing ever. I have been _dying_ to see what's over here, but, well… _Legion_."

Although he did agree that vaults could be treasure troves of supplies, something told Vulpes that Maria didn't actually care about the practical aspects. She just wanted to explore. Her long hair, tied back at the nape of her neck, was being whipped around by the increasing wind as she jogged ahead. Nearly skipping towards what he assumed was their destination, the light on her pip boy was bouncing across the ground. She had clicked on the radio and was singing along as they moved. "_If I wind up broke, well I'll always remember that I had a swingin' time…"_ Vulpes was fairly sure the song was something from the regular rotation at The Tops.

"I'm following a madwoman," he muttered, more amused than annoyed.

Watching her, he could easily understand how she ended up trapped in Big MT. And the Divide. And Utah. And wherever else she had been, those places too horrible for her to talk about that haunted her nightmares. "_Viva las you know I can hear yoooou_," she sang out, not turning around or slowing down.

"I know." Vulpes tried not to smile, but her mood was nearly contagious. "I do hope you can appreciate how much I indulge your madness."

She did spin around then, hand on her hip. Her eyes were narrowed, making them look coal black in the darkness, but she was smiling. He couldn't help but notice there was more sway to her hips than usual as she walked back to him. "Absolutely," she said, voice low. Grabbing his belt, Maria pulled Vulpes closer, her other arm around his shoulder. Her mouth was warm, but Vulpes was so surprised by her aggression it took him a moment to respond. She was still grinning as she stepped back. "Hopefully the vault will be empty," she said. "So I can appreciate a bit more."

Stunned, Vulpes watched as she turned and continued on towards the vault, carefree as ever. After a few seconds he smiled, following her.

The Vault would be empty, or he would empty it himself.

* * *

_Title is from The Del-Vikings, and one of the most quintessentially fifties songs ever._  
_I know I owe a few people messages, I've been running like a lunatic for work for the last two weeks. Yay yay. I'll probably catch up on that tomorrow. :) I swear, not blowing anyone off. Just super busy. :)_  
_Thanks so much to everyone reading, and especially the people taking time to review or drop me a message. I really love knowing people are out there reading._


	17. What'd I Say

_Mohave County, Arizona  
June 1, 2285_

"Gods above, woman, did you just _squeal_?"

Vulpes was following Maria down the cavern tunnel leading to the vault door. If she had turned around, she would have seen him shaking his head. She only held her hand out behind her, raising the middle finger without looking back. Running ahead, she raced towards the door controls. Examining the door first, she then turned her attention to the computer terminal. "I don't think anyone's been here in for _years_," she said.

"Good," Vulpes replied. "I suspect a sandstorm is headed our way, we may need to stay a few days until it passes."

She looked over at him, surprised. "Really? I hadn't noticed." That was troubling. Anyone living in the Mojave became very good at recognizing approaching sandstorms at a young age. She shouldn't have missed the signs.

"I am fairly sure you wouldn't have noticed if the Novac dinosaur passed us doing a song and dance routine," he said. "Well, no, perhaps _that_ you would have noticed. I suspect you would stop to sing and dance right along with the beast."

"What about Novac?" Maria said, only half-listening so she could focus on the computer. "Yeah, I think I still have a place there. Not in the dino, though. Why bring that up?" Vulpes laughed, although she had no idea why. "There," she said, hitting a key. If her final attempt was right, it would release the lock on the door controls. If not, it would shut down the entire terminal and she would need to find another way in.

Today that wouldn't be necessary. She shouted, cheering to see the control panel light up, glowing amber.

Vulpes had moved over to the terminal, fingers grazing the keyboard far faster than her own tentative pecking at the keys had been. "I didn't know you could use a computer," she said.

"Of course I can," he said. "How can someone spy if they can't hack a terminal?" He was tapping away, eyes scanning the screen. "All this time and you're still amazed when I demonstrate the most basic skills. I would almost wonder if you think I'm some sort of ignorant savage," Vulpes mused, not looking up from the screen. "Rejecting technology isn't the same thing as thinking it's some sort of _magic demon box_."

"Vulpes, I don't think that!"

"No matter, it was just an observation. I didn't intend to start a fight." His voice was neutral, softer than usual. Stepping back from the terminal, he looked over at her. "Besides, you wouldn't be entirely wrong… outside the praetorian guards and frumentarii very few in the Legion could so much as turn on a computer." He sighed, blue eyes looking sad. "And… to be honest, as I watched you struggle through hacking this thing, I was thinking about how pathetic it was that your people are utterly dependant on machines you barely understand." He shrugged. "I suppose neither of us can claim a moral high ground at the moment."

"You think I'm pathetic?" she asked after a moment. Was that how he saw her? Chained to technology?

"Of course not," Vulpes said. "It was an observation about your society, not _you_." He was looking at her. "Why? Do you think I'm ignorant?"

"You know I don't," she told him. "You're one of the smartest people I know."

He folded his arms, looking put out. "_One of?"_

Maria kept her expression neutral, trying not to laugh. He seemed sincerely offended. Vulpes must have been used to being the smartest person in the room for most of his life… the legion wasn't exactly a hotbed of academics. Maria suddenly realized how much of his identity must have been tied up in that.

No wonder he tended to talk to everyone else like they were idiots.

"Well, my friend Arcade's _really_ smart. _And_ he's a doctor…"

Vulpes narrowed his eyes. "This _Arcade_… you've mentioned him before. Were you…?"

"Was I what?" she said, realizing what he was asking as soon as the words were out. "Wait, are you _jealous? Of Arcade?_" Maria burst into laughter.

"I am certainly _not._" He didn't sound particularly convincing.

She laughed even harder. "Vulpes," Maria said, "I think _you're_ more his type than I could ever be."

He looked confused. "What?"

"He's gay."

"What?"

She shook her head. "It's like you're from another planet," Maria said, more to herself. "Gay. Into boys. Not girls."

"A deviant?" The expression on his face made Maria suspect the rumors Cass told her about guys in the Legion were well, mostly rumors. And the stories of the horrible things that happened to gay men were probably closer to the truth.

"A _person_," she said, silently hoping Vulpes wouldn't argue otherwise. She was able to keep her arguments in check most of the time. They were from incredibly different worlds, after all. Some things couldn't be played off as a cultural difference, though. "And he's one of my best friends. Watch yourself there, Legion."

He laughed and she relaxed. "Legion? Gods, you're not going back to calling me that, I hope."

Vulpes was standing very close, nearly pinning Maria to the table. Hands on her hips, his smirk was obvious even in the dim cave.

"I never called you _Legion_," she said. "I think I called you '_Legion Boy,' _but… well, that was before I knew about your incredibly advanced age."

"And now you insult me," he said. "The stories are true: profligate women _are_ vicious," he said. "No wonder your men all seem so broken and weak, if this is what they're subjected to."

"Aw, poor abused Vulpes," Maria teased, hopping up on the edge of the table. "Really, you should thank me."

"Thank you?"

"Sure," she said. "Soon you'll be Caesar, surrounded by idiots who will nod and agree with everything you say. People who think you're a god can't be trusted to tell you the truth. For honesty you'll have no one but me."

"Is that so?" He looked ready to laugh. "Since, in my experience, nothing in this world is _less_ trustworthy than a woman. _Especially_ if she's your lover." He sounded completely sincere. Maria must have looked offended, since Vulpes smiled then, leaning forward to briefly press his lips to her forehead. "Fortunately you're very different from the other women I've known in my life." He paused for a moment before going on. "You're just as cruel, of course… but it's more the violent sort of cruelty than the heartless variety. It's an interesting change. And it seems to lend itself to more honesty."

"So I'm cruel," she said, "but not heartless." Maria put her arms around his shoulders, pulling Vulpes closer and laughing. "I can't believe it, but coming from you that's practically a compliment." she hooked her ankles together behind his back.

"It is." Turning his attention to pulling himself free of her legs Maria felt cold air hit her feet, her shoes hitting the floor with a dull thump.

"You took my shoes," she said.

"I had to," Vulpes said. "You'll get them back."

"Had to?" she said, words turning into a yelp of surprise. He had grabbed her by the waist, yanking her to the edge of the table.

"I could see no other way to get rid of your pants," Vulpes said, laughing at her as she flopped backwards while he yanked at her clothes. "Well, besides a straight razor. I thought _that_ would just upset you, though. See how considerate I am?"

"And why did you need to get my pants off so urgently?" She shrieked with laughter as he grabbed one ankle, tickling the bottom of her foot. "I will kick you in the face, Vulpes, don't even try me."

He laughed, kneeling beside the table, still holding on to her ankle. Vulpes made a small sound of contentment as he kissed her leg, slowly trailing up. "Maybe," he said, between nips at her inner thigh, "I wanted to prove I'm not a decrepit old man." Vulpes had arched a brow, eyes amused.

Maria debated making a joke about him breaking a hip, but thought better of it. Insulting him while he was kissing his way up her leg seemed to be directly against her own best interests.

"Nothing?" Vulpes asked, breath hot. "No comments? Jokes? Not even a quip about grey hair or broken hips?"

"No," Maria squeaked out.

"Really? I can't believe you have _nothing_ to say."

She couldn't stop herself from giggling. "Um… I'm crazy about you?"

"You compare affection for me to madness?" He shifted, resting his cheek on her bare stomach. "I feel like I should be insulted."

"It's an _expression_," she said. "It just means—"

"I know. I was teasing you." He smiled, looking pleased with himself.

Before she could reply Vulpes winked, dipping his head down between her thighs.

Gasping, Maria fell back on the table, narrowly avoiding hitting her head on the terminal. As his tongue flicked between her legs, her hands gripped the edge of the table. Her feet drummed against his back as she moaned, back arching. "Oh please," she begged him, moaning. "Please don't stop."

His hands dug into her, gripping her bucking hips to keep Maria on the table. Her words turned into incoherent moans, followed by nothing but panting. Vulpes responded by increasing his speed, stopping only when she cried out, rising up from the table before dropping back down.

Rising up to his feet, Vulpes quickly dropped his boxers to the floor. Maria was still out of breath when she moved, sitting on the edge of the table. Grabbing his collar, she yanked Vulpes closer. "Now," she said, mouth close to his.

"Are you telling me what to do?"

"Yes."

"So be it," he said with a chuckle. pulling her closer to the edge of the table. They sighed together as Vulpes entered her. Still shaking, Maria could hear her voice crying out with every thrust, sounds more animal than human.

After a moment he dropped her back to the table. Feet in the air, her legs were against his chest. He turned his head, kissing and then biting her ankle. Gripping her thighs, Vulpes made a growling sound. Maria answered in kind before grabbing his collar, pulling him down towards her. Legs free, she wrapped them around him. As their lips met, Maria shuddered, feeling her muscles tense.

"Gods," he shouted, burying himself deeper into her before falling forward, face drenched in sweat, face buried in her hair.

Vulpes was still out of breath as he shifted, stretching out next to her on the narrow table. Her hands were around him, one finger tracing the line of his jaw.

"Weren't we going to do something?" he asked after an extended silence broken only by their panting. "Some kind of… vault?"

"Were we?" Maria asked. "Hm… maybe. I am pretty sure I had shoes on when we got here. I usually wear shoes when I'm digging through ruins. And pants. I almost _always_ wear pants."

He laughed. "No, you wear a lot of dresses," Vulpes said. "And tunics for a good week or two. That was… frustrating."

"I've worn one dress since you've known me. That hardly counts as 'a lot.'" She was sitting up, collecting the rest of her clothes. _You're an idiot_, a small voice in her head reminded her. She and Vulpes would need to have a chat, and soon. She had been putting it off, not having the faintest idea how Vulpes would react to an 'I don't want to get pregnant' discussion. She didn't even know if he understood how the female reproductive system actually functioned, beyond the obvious.

She had another few days, a week at the absolute most, before the conversation couldn't be put off… especially not if they kept carrying on like animals in heat. Before she hit the middle of her cycle they would need to have a talk. A stilted, uncomfortable, awkward talk.

"Was it just the once?" Vulpes asked, watching her dress. "I guess it made a strong impression on me." As she stood from tying her shoes once more, Vulpes hopped down off the table. "For the record, it _was_ a very nice dress, and I am sorry it ended up getting ruined." He was typing on the old terminal once more, exploring subdirectories beyond just the door controls she had accessed.

"I'm surprised you remember," Maria mused, sitting near him on the table.

"Of course I do," Vulpes said. "I have a very good memory. And you looked especially memorable in that dress."

"And here I thought you hated me then."

"I wasn't exactly _fond_ of you," Vulpes admitted, not looking up. "As a general rule I'm not attracted to women who so clearly fear me. But, it doesn't change the fact that you looked nice in that dress."

"That must really limit your dating pool," Maria said, laughing. She couldn't really imagine many women who wouldn't fear a Legion officer, and if they actually _knew_ it was Vulpes Inculta, of all people, she suspected the number dropped down to… her.

"You would be _very _surprised," he said. Before Maria could reply he made a face, looking slightly horrified. "Take a look at this." Vulpes had pulled up a note dated right around the time of the war. Written by a woman, it was announcing her intention to find her son, who hadn't ended up in the vault.

"Sad," Maria said. "She's probably one of the skeletons in the tunnel. The radiation would have killed her as soon as she got closer to the surface.

"There's more," he said. There was another, eerily similar, dated weeks later. And another, and another.

"What the fuck happened here?" she asked.

"I think I know," Vulpes said. "There was another vault in Colorado… I went through it with several of the frumentarii as we scouted the area near Boulder, just before the Legion took the city. Well, judging by those terminals, _that_ Vault was full of nothing but children."

She felt ill at the thought. The parents must have been frantic, no wonder so many risked what they likely knew was certain death. "What kind of screw up is that?"

"I don't think it was one," Vulpes said, sitting on the table. "I get the feeling these were more experiment than anything else. They all seemed to have something wrong."

"Well, it had to be chaotic," she said, not able to accept that something so cruel could be intentional. "People didn't have much notice before the bombs hit."

"I found one where there were only thirty people assigned to the vault, along with one animal called a panther." He paused. "Best I can tell, a panther is… well, not entirely unlike a yao guai. Fast. Dangerous. I don't believe they exist any longer, though. Not around here, at least."

"The fuck?" She shook her head. That was far too insane to be a simple screw up.

"That's about what I thought," he replied. "_Every_ vault is like this." He was gesturing as he spoke, counting off on his hand. "Doors that never closed, people being told they needed _human sacrifice_, plants that turned people into monsters, tests that ended up turning people into Nightkin and Supermutants… The vaults, well, I think it was someone's idea of a science experiment… or a bad joke."

"Pretty sick either way," Maria said.

"And you really wonder why I dislike old-world science?" Vulpes asked. He stood up, clicking off the terminal. "Do you still want to go inside?"

"Of course," she replied. Nothing short of being physically restrained would have kept her out of an unexplored vault.

"Very well," he said, reaching over and flipping the large switch. Maria stood, arms folded, as the giant door screamed in protest.

"This hasn't been touched in years," Vulpes said, watching the sparks of metal on metal. The door was nearly rusted shut.

She walked ahead as soon as the door had opened, light shining ahead of them. Her pistol was out, held up at the ready, but the vault seemed silent, their feet on the old metal stairs the only sound. "Well, then," Maria said, looking up across the large common area.

"Isn't that…" Vulpes looked up, quite clearly perplexed by what dominated the room.

"I think that's Graham's god," she said.

"Why is he crucified?" Vulpes asked. "Did they want to punish him for the missing children?"

"That's how he died," Maria said. "Graham told me."

She had told Arcade and Cass later. It had seemed so… odd. Especially since it was the god Graham worshiped _before _he helped found a nation basically built on crucifixion. Arcade just shook his head, asking how she had never heard of the religion. Apparently it was much more common than she had realized, and her lack of belief was far more surprising. She had just laughed. "_If there is a god,"_ Maria pointed out, "_would I be sitting here with a hole in my skull?" _

_"You could be dead,"_ Cassidy pointed out. "_That's what happens to most people who get shot in the head."_

_"God should be saving them, then,"_ Maria had said, feeling suddenly sullen. She didn't like the way they were looking at her like she had suddenly switched to a foreign language. She didn't like the feeling of being outside something everyone else understood. "_Not like I'm anything special. Pretty sure all the people I've killed would agree."_

"What a strange religion," Vulpes mused. "Very morbid. But, I suppose turning to religion in hardship is normal." He looked over at her with a final shrug. "Perhaps they turned to their god for solace?"

"Do you think it helped?" Maria knew very little about religion, she had to trust whatever he said was true. His theory made more sense than anything she could come up with.

Vulpes glanced around before turning his back on the gruesome figure to continue exploring the vault. "People of the old world were very attached to their children," he said, already digging through cabinets. "So no, I don't believe it would have helped."

Something about his statement bothered her. "I don't think that's changed, Vulpes. People have always been _attached_ to their children. That's how humans work."

"Most Legion children are raised by the priestesses," he said indifferently, not stopping his search through lockers and cabinets.

Maria froze where she stood, thinking about that. He clearly didn't seem _bothered_ by this. Why would he be, though? It was likely how he had been raised. Still… "that'll be the fucking day," Maria finally said, looking over her shoulder at him. He seemed confused, so she turned around, facing him. "No way. No fucking way. You're pulling out from now on, so you know." She had been annoyed with herself for how careless they were, and supremely grateful it was at a relatively safe time of the month. Vulpes had just ensured Maria would never be that reckless again, even if they weren't in such chaotic circumstances. It wasn't how she had planned to approach the topic, but it suddenly seemed far more urgent.

"What?"

"You heard me," she said. "Priestesses my ass…" The range of emotions on his face would have been comical under other circumstances.

"You're fertile?" was what he finally said. She noticed a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, as though he was fighting a smile.

"_That's_ what you come back with?" Maria rolled her eyes. For someone who had intended to toss aside any children to a bunch of former tribal wisewomen in fancy robes, he seemed awfully pleased about the idea of actually having a child. "As far as I know, yes, which is exactly why you're pulling out from now on. I think it would be less inconvenient than when you have to slaughter me to send my child to some priestess, since the only way that shit's happening is if I'm a fucking _corpse_."

He put his hand to his forehead for a moment before looking at her. "Maria, you're furious over _nothing. _The fact is, I'll be Caesar, in which case I can do as I please." She stared at him for a long time. Maria kept forgetting that. "Or we'll both be dead. In which case what does any of this matter?" Strangely, _that_ seemed far easier to accept than Vulpes being Caesar. "Besides," he went on, "you're not some slave. No one would dare take a free woman's child. What kind of person would move to Legion controlled lands if that happened?" When she didn't reply he rolled his eyes. He could tell she didn't believe him. "We _need_ settlers, Maria," he said. "_They pay taxes._ Taxes feed the Legion. Taxes make armor and weapons. "

"I guess," she admitted. It seemed a strangely mundane concern, almost bureaucratic. She couldn't argue against it, though. Vulpes was right. Still, Maria didn't entirely believe him. "Even if the father was in the Legion?"

"You're serious?" he said, looking amused. "Who do you think fathered most of the children in Flagstaff?" She must have looked surprised. "What?" Vulpes said. "You're shocked? Everyone knows dissolute women like a man in uniform." He smirked at her, tugging slightly at the waist of his armor before reaching up to adjust the red cape that fell from his shoulders.

Despite her annoyance, Maria laughed. "Fine, but you're still pulling out," she said after a moment. "Unless you happen to have a box of rubbers on you."

"A box of what?"

"They're an old world thing," she said. "You can still find them but they're _really _expensive. It's… kind of like a glove, but for your… um…" blushing, she gestured vaguely, feeling silly. Maria suspected her face was red right up to her hair. "To sort of… catch everything." She gave up, too embarrassed to go on, finally saying "Ugh, I think you get the point."

"That is the most disturbing and unnatural thing I have ever heard," he said, clearly disgusted. "Did old world scientists actually _hate_ humanity?"

* * *

Vulpes had agreed to her demands. What choice did he have… well, save the choice that would leave him sleeping alone once more?

The entire thing was annoying but, he had to admit, perfectly reasonable. Pregnancy would be a complication well beyond what either of them could manage at this point in time. Vulpes hadn't expected, or even hoped, for a child, of course. Up until that moment he had actually assumed she was barren. Hours and weeks spent climbing through radioactive vaults and toxic sludge didn't exactly do wonders for human fertility, after all. It didn't take a medical genius to understand that much, just an observation on the complete absence of children among settlers in areas with high radiation levels. Even with women who _didn't_ spend their adult lives surrounded with nuclear waste fertility was hardly guaranteed.

Discovering it could be otherwise opened the door to options for the future he hadn't considered. Watching her rummage through cabinets, he considered the possibilities. She _was_ remarkably healthy. Surviving all she had with no serious physical problems spoke to an exceptional and superior constitution. Even better, he could thank the gods that she hadn't spent years polluting her body with chems and alcohol.

And she never sunburned, which was far more than he could say about himself.

"Vulpes, are you even listening to me?" Maria asked. She was fishing items from the top shelf of a cabinet. _She's a good height, _he thought. _Tall, but not abnormally so._

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the…" he glanced around looking for something to blame, but the vault was silent as a grave. "Sorry."

"Right," she had an eyebrow raised. "My eyes are up here," she added. "Usually when I tell someone that it's because they're staring at my chest. I kinda wish that's what you were doing, since it would be a lot less creepy."

"What did I do?" Realizing where his mind had wandered, Vulpes looked away quickly. _You've gone mad,_ he thought. _You're all but planning a dynasty. _

"You're staring at my stomach. Creepy, Vulpes. Very creepy."

He didn't realize that happened, but it was likely true. "My mind was elsewhere," Vulpes admitted, knowing he couldn't come up with any excuse that sounded remotely believable. There really was no way to tell her he was trying to determine if her traits were worth passing down to his heirs. Well, not without sounding like the madman he had clearly become.

"You don't say," she deadpanned.

His would need to change the subject, and hope this could be forgotten. It wouldn't be, of course, but at least a new topic would end this current humiliation. "What were you saying before?"

Maria was trying to wrestle a cabinet door open. "I was asking—fuck," she shook her hand, briefly putting two fingers in her mouth as though that would alleviate the pain of being smashed in a metal door. "I was asking if you hate _all_ science. It seems like that's the official line, but I really can't see _why_."

He gestured and she stepped aside. "Science is a very broad term," he said, wrenching the door open. Seeing the contents, Maria squealed happily and began tossing fistfuls of stimpacks and med-x into her bag. "People shouldn't be so dependent on outside factors. We should rely on ourselves. Doing otherwise makes us weak. It creates vulnerabilities that can be exploited." The irony of speaking those words as she dumped chems into her pack was not lost on him.

She stood up. "See, that's what I think, too… but it doesn't mean technology is _bad_. It's… like the natural next steps. We have minds, we have hands. Why not create things to make life better? We don't fight with rocks in our bare fists anymore, do we?" She glanced around before clicking on the light at her wrist. "This way," Maria gestured.

Vulpes followed her down the stairs, considering that. She walked with confidence, navigating the twisting passages of the vault without hesitation. This seemed her natural environment, digging through the unknown. It wouldn't have surprised him to find she had been a scavenger in a past life.

"I think the problem is how much we need old-world _stuff_," she went on, glancing from right to left a few times before deciding on a direction. "Chems, food, clothes. Things like that. It won't last forever. We need to learn to make things for ourselves." She made a noise, as though thinking better of her words. "No, we need to be less fucking _lazy_. We can sew, we can cook, we can farm. It doesn't take a scientist to nail two boards together and build a house. We just don't bother since it's easier to use the old garbage."

"On that," Vulpes said, "I am in _complete_ agreement." He pulled a broken door open, holding it so Maria could pass before following. "But if you believe that, why do you use chems," he asked, returning to their old discussion. "You know people are far too dependent on goods of the old world, but you contribute to the problem."

"Simple," Maria said, poking her head around a corner before continuing on. "I will do anything and everything in my power to keep us alive. Screw ethics. I'm not dying just to prove some point, and neither are you." She stared at him, as if expecting an argument. "Call me a hypocrite if you want, but I'm not going to apologize for wanting to keep the two of us breathing."

Vulpes smiled hearing that, and put a hand on her lower back. "I take it I don't have a choice in the matter?"

"Fuck no you don't," Maria said. "I drugged you and performed invasive surgery when I barely even knew you. Just imagine what I'd do if you got hurt _now_." She winked at him, grinning. Vulpes had no idea how to react. Not once, in all his life, had someone promised to keep him safe. It was a strange thing.

Maria slowed them as they approached the lower levels. As the device on her arm began to beep in protest, he held out his arm without protest, knowing what would come next. "Reactor is close," she said. As if on cue, her pip boy began to beep out a warning. "Arm," she demanded. Vulpes waved her off, refusing. "Please, Vulpes," she said, resting a hand on his face. "Humor me. What did I just say? I only ask because I care about you. Thinking about you sick with radiation poisoning .." She was staring at him, lower lip caught between her teeth. Her eyes seemed to shine and he was taken aback by how much it bothered her.

Sighing, he held out his arm. Her entire expression melted, replaced with a grin.

It was all manipulation, he realized with a start.

Watching her walk downstairs, towards the reactor, Vulpes was almost impressed.

* * *

Cato coughed, throat burning. He was stumbling almost blindly, skin seared raw despite the rags he had wrapped around himself. The goggles protected his eyes, but did nothing to help him see. In fact, they made it _worse_... if such a thing was possible.

He would have just stayed at Cottonwood Cove to ride out the sandstorm, but he wanted to keep ahead of the NCR.

It was all because of his own big mouth, really. He had to go and mention to Caesar that one of the patrols spotted some movement in the old Cottonwood Cove base. He hadn't expected the man to begin pacing the floor before demanding Cato _personally_ take care of whoever was poking around.

All he found was an empty camp, a couple disheveled beds, and a fridge that had been torched.

Granted, there were some things that seemed out of the norm for settlers or raiders. Books, for one. Books _everywhere_. In every building there were at least one or two books. Love poetry, ancient romance novels, plays. Women's books, if he had to judge. A surprising number were actually Roman in origin, as well. They must have been left behind when the camp was abandoned.

The books were a curiosity. The dead ranger, however, was downright strange. She hadn't been there long when he arrived, surely less than a week judging by the condition of the body. It didn't make him inclined to stick around for a long examination of the camp, though, if only to avoid anyone that might have gone looking for the woman.

_I should have backup,_ he mused, looking around. He wanted to take the camp apart, stone by stone. He wanted to find out what happened to the charred ranger station up the hill. However, he was alone. He was alone, and the hills were crawling with NCR. They, too, wanted to find out what happened to the ranger station. Without backup there was little he could do beyond staying out of their sight.

Something told him Vulpes hadn't put up with this kind of shit when he was in charge. He was the damned head of the Frumentarii, not some scout.

Well, no, he had the work, but didn't get the title. The title still belonged to the Fox. Caesar Prima's favorite may have fallen out of favor with the current ruler, but the charade that he was on a long mission in hostile lands remained alive and well. Even if Vulpes himself was dead.

No, Cato thought after a moment. He was more than likely still alive. Alive and, knowing him, plotting an exceptionally brutal form of revenge. It would probably involve crucifixion. With him it _always_ involved crucifixion. It was the closest thing the man had to a hobby.

It was strange; his information network had been picking up more and more whispers of him over the last few months. Dividing the gossip from reality had never been easy, but some things were so outlandish he had no choice but to dismiss them.

It was likely true that Vulpes had wiped out a squadron of Rangers sent to bring him in to Shady Sands for trial as a war criminal. Whatever _that_ meant. War criminal. It made Cato laugh, the idea of there being _laws_ governing war, laws one could break and be punished for after the battle had ended. It was fucking _war! _

It was almost certainly gossip that he had been seen dancing with a woman in Freeside, some doe eyed thing nearly young enough to be his daughter who was hanging all over him. While he had no doubt Vulpes _could_ dance… he didn't think the man would ever do so willingly outside an undercover mission. Not unless he had gone completely insane.

Cato had no doubt the stories of him wandering near the ruins of Nipton with the _courier, _of all people, were utter bullshit. Besides, current intelligence said she was dead.

But then some of _those_ reports said it was Vulpes that killed her.

_I need a month left alone to figure this out_, Cato thought, making a face. He had no mind for this sort of thing. He was supposed to be the one who _collected_ information, not the one who pieced it together.

Of course, even if he was able to figure out the puzzle, he could never actually find _time_. Not when he was being sent on idiotic treks across the desert chasing phantoms.

Grumbling, he pushed his damp hair back. The boat had been missing, forcing him to swim across the river both ways. He was wet, tired, and grumpy before the sandstorm began. Now he was also caked with sand and filth.

Right now he wanted to sleep, on a bed if possible. At the very least, away from the wind. That wasn't much to ask for, was it?

_Cave?_ Lifting his goggles, Cato blinked repeatedly, trying to see past the blinding clouds. Jogging forward he saw it was, in fact, a cave.

"Yes!" he shouted to no one in particular, jumping in place a few times. "Thank you, gods!"

Laughing, he pulled his goggles off, unwinding the rags from his face. Just being out of the punishing storm made him feel leagues better. Clapping his hands together once, he laughed and fished a battery-powered torch out of his bag.

Cato took account of the surroundings. Dark, and very much abandoned, although someone had passed through here very recently. No, two someones. Mixed in with the large boot prints were smaller half-footprints, as though the other figure had been running or hopping. Man and woman, or maybe a man and a child. He wasn't sure. Bending down, Cato looked closer. Woman, probably. They were too deep for a child's body weight. It was a chaos of prints, back and forth.

Going further down the tunnel, he could see a greenish glow. Without pause, Cato slammed his hand over the light to block it out and clicked off the switch. Dropping to a crouch, he moved forward silently. When he saw the light was just a forgotten terminal he breathed a sigh of relief before glancing around again.

_"_Oh _hello,_ beautiful_," _he said aloud, realizing what he had found. With a grin he turned to the terminal once more. Clicking through the menus, he tried to see if it gave a hint of what he might be up against. Raiders, chem fiends, ghouls, radiation: they all seemed to have some nasty surprise waiting inside.

Seeing the old entries, he couldn't help but made a face. _Fucking Vaults_, Cato thought to himself. _Just when I thought I'd seen the worst. _Each one always seemed more horrible than the last, this being no exception. At least it would be a good place to rest a bit and, if he was lucky, resupply. If there were people still inside… well, he didn't plan to break cover and bother them, and if they had any sense, they wouldn't bother him.

Tapping his hand against the large _24_ imprinted on the steel door, he walked into the Vault.

* * *

_author's note... The vault full of children is canon. It's brought up in Fallout 1... I always found it so incredibly disturbing. The panther vault is... semi-canon. ;) (thank you, Penny Arcade...)  
Thanks so much to my patient readers and reviewers. The last month has been insanely crazy for me. I've had this chapter 'almost done' for ages, and just couldn't steal away a couple hours to finish it for the longest time. _


	18. Welcome to the Club

_Vault 24, Arizona  
June 3, 2285_

Cato went straight for the Overseer's office on the main level. Finding it empty, he shut and locked the door before falling into a deep sleep curled up behind the desk. Finding the living quarters and napping in a proper bed had been tempting, but if the vault had any hostile occupants he wouldn't have had a chance at defending himself… not after hours of stumbling through a sandstorm. Sleep first, so he could hold a pistol without shooting his own foot if it came to that.

When he did wake, after a long and undisturbed rest, he knew it was the right decision. He felt better than he had in weeks. Brushing the sand from his now-dry hair, exploring seemed the best next step. Near the common area he found two empty bottles, both still containing a few drops of Nuka-Cola clinging to the bottom. The remains of a meal sat not too far away. Whoever it was, they hadn't been gone long.

In the living quarters he found one room with a rumpled bed. Even better, though, he found a bathroom. A bathroom with a _working shower_.

_I haven't seen a soul,_ he told himself, looking around as though a group of settlers might wander past him at that very moment. _This place is completely silent._ _Gods above, are those **clean towels?** _Glancing around once more, he locked the door and turned on the hot water.

The hot water was actually barely lukewarm. Cato really didn't care. Letting the spray beat against his shoulders, he sighed. He was getting old, too old for sleeping on the floor wherever he happened to fall. His back had been reminding him of that since he woke up. Finally, the ache seemed to subside, washing down the drain with the sand and grime.

Feeling much more human, he shut off the water.

As he dried off he could hear voices in the distance. _Where? _ Scanning the room, something caught his eye. A vent, not far from where he stood. Climbing to the edge of the sink, careful to be silent, he leaned closer to listen at the ceiling. Two people were talking, voices muffled, barely loud enough to hear much less make out the words. Tracing the pipe across the room, he tried to determine where they were. _Downstairs_. They didn't know he was there, then. The sound was just carrying through the ancient pipes.

_Well,_ he thought, pulling his shirt on, _no call for being rude. Might as well say hello and meet the neighbors._ Once he found the speakers he could decide if they would meet Calvin the settler, or Cato Hostilius the frumentarii.

* * *

_Fortification Hill, Arizona  
August 9, 2282_

Things were moving slowly. Vulpes didn't want to admit it, but Caesar's frequent headaches seemed as much to blame as the unwelcoming locals. He would sometimes shut himself off for days, admitting only his most trusted men. Days without planning, days without movement. Days with the son of Mars curled up in bed, groaning in pain as he held his head. It was frustrating, but Vulpes was powerless. Something was wrong with their lord, very wrong. They all knew it... and eventually someone would have to admit it out loud.

They were finally at the end of one of those periods of inactivity. Waiting for intelligence reports, Vulpes sat around the Fort bored, chatting with Cato Hostilius about the state of the frumentarii. "Hey Fox," Caesar said, sounding amused as he walked over. "Got something for you." The book was dropped onto the table before him, heavy and leatherbound. "A conniving bastard like you ought to appreciate this."

On the cover were just two words. _The Prince._

He was right, of course. Caesar was _always_ right. Cato had laughed as Vulpes became engrossed, walking off to find something more entertaining than watching his friend read. It was rude, but Vulpes couldn't help himself. The book was fascinating, a detailed and brilliant study of achieving and maintaining power, about controlling the masses, and manipulation through image and propaganda.

He slowly began to formulate a plan for how they could maintain order in New Vegas after their victory… which was no doubt what Caesar had hoped for by giving him the book.

That had been what he was reading a few days later, when the courier finally arrived. The guards had whispered word to Caesar, who then announced her prescience to the tent, informing everyone to 'look respectable.' He was laughing, but Vulpes could tell their leader wanted to impress this woman. As to why, Vulpes had no idea. He had met the woman and seen nothing extraordinary, nothing _special;_ she was just a typical young dissolute. When he had arrived on the strip to give her the mark he watched her come out of the Tops, shoulders slumped in an ill-fitting, baggy green dress. She had a streak of blood on one cheek, and her eyes didn't appear to be seeing what was in front of her.

_I failed,_ she kept mumbling to herself, while a tall blonde man and a slim redheaded woman who reeked of whiskey attempted to comfort her. Vulpes had to clear his throat three times before she even noticed him.

**_This _**_is the woman Caesar wanted to see? This mouse is who he said I should impress? Really? _The NCR had been courting her as well, Vulpes knew she had met with their ambassador, and most of what they discussed. The man sweeping the halls, unnoticed by either of them, was one of his own people. He knew the stories: impressive tales of dead criminals in Primm and Goodsprings, a chase across the desert for the man who shot her. That was the very man who had just run from his own casino as though Cerberus itself was at his heels. It wasn't difficult to see why the courier was so upset.

Even knowing that, though, Vulpes was still having a great deal of difficulty reconciling the story with the woman standing in front of him, drawn in on herself and fighting back tears.

When she finally looked up Vulpes froze, clearing his throat once more after too long a silence.

In truth, Vulpes had barely looked at her in Nipton, more concerned with keeping an eye on his own men. He would have been slightly more interested in seeing her again if he paid attention all those months ago. _Well, she **is** pretty,_ he admitted to himself, directing his gaze away from her dark eyes. _I'll give her that much at least. _

Mutely she watched him as he recited the invitation. Her friends recoiled in horror, but the courier only nodded slightly when Vulpes revealed himself to be a member of the frumentarii. Holding out the mark, she stepped forward after a brief hesitation. Her fingers brushed his hand. It wasn't intentional, but he was surprised nonetheless. He had expected the woman to go out of her way _not_ to touch him- most profligates did when they realized they were dealing with a man of the Legion. It was as though they feared righteousness was some kind of disease spread through touch. She stared at him for a moment.

"I met you in Nipton?" It was more question than statment.

He was surprised she recognized him, and said as much. She just shrugged before looking at the object in her hand. "Thank you."

He didn't have time to reply before the redheaded woman pulled the courier back, casting a murderous glance at Vulpes. "Good day," he said, nodding before walking off.

Turning his back was always a risk. One of them could shoot him at any moment. They could shout his identity. It was always something Vulpes remained very conscious of, and yet it almost never happened. "Can you believe that?" he could hear her male companion mutter. "Some security the NCR has. Caesar's spies wandering around right under their nose." Glancing back briefly as the gate opened, he saw she was still motionless outside the casino, the Mark of Caesar dangling from her hand, eyes staring blankly forward.

He had no idea who that broken girl was, but apparently in the time between receiving the Mark of Caesar and arriving at the Fort, Maria killed her.

He had glanced up over the top of his book when a mercenary strode into the tent, wearing a filthy blue… something, and black leather leggings that were more tear than fabric. She had smears of gunpowder on her right hand from recent shooting, and dried blood flecked across her hip. It didn't look to be from any injury on her own body. "Well?" she said loudly, yanking the cowboy hat off her head and holding it in one hand. "Here I am. I hope you don't expect a curtsy."

The same brown eyes seemed to demand his attention. Before, they had seemed ready to well up with tears… this time, they spit fire. It was a vast improvement.

Caesar had stared at her in surprise. Turning to Vulpes, he raised an eyebrow without saying a word. He had been expecting some shrinking wallflower based on what Vulpes had said, not this.

"I'm as confused as you," Vulpes said quietly, after walking over to the throne.

The woman had been glancing around the room and did a double take when she saw the prisoner, his distinctive jacket's plaid pattern still clear despite the dirt and blood now covering it. Eyes going wide, she swallowed roughly, closing her eyes for a moment. Vulpes couldn't help but notice her hands. First, she reached for the gun that had been confiscated at the gate, hand hitting an empty holster. Then, she reached for her other hip, where she had carried a machete. That, too, was gone of course. One hand drifted up, fingers grazing her collar before she apparently thought better of it, dropping the limb to her side quickly. She was left with her empty fists clenching and unclenching behind her back as she spoke to Caesar. He expected her to bolt across the tent at any moment. This was suddenly far more interesting than he had expected.

"_Watch her_," Vulpes whispered to one of his men as she spoke to Caesar. _"She has a weapon hidden in her shirt. Say nothing, don't reveal we know, just keep an eye on her. Kill her if she tries anything."_

"_Sir," _was all the man said, nodding.

He didn't like an armed woman standing so close to Caesar, but the circumstances were unusual. It was remarkable a free woman had even been willing to step into the camp alone, on a completely rational level he couldn't fault her for wanting to retain some means of self defense. Even if he discounted that, Vulpes knew strip-searching her would be the worst way to enlist the woman's aid for the Legion. So he would watch her and, at the first sign she meant Caesar harm, kill her before she could do any damage.

Caesar noticed her reaction as well, of course. The carrot he dangled- giving her control of Benny's fate, was enough to have the courier agreeing to go into the vault without a second of hesitation. Caesar should have pushed for more, he realized, continuing to watch her. It was obvious she would have agreed to anything if it got her the man she had chased across the Mojave. He could have demanded she help him defeat the NCR… gods, he could have demanded she help him defeat the _moon _and the courier probably would have started building a ladder right there.

She strode over to the prisoner on her way out, dropping down so she was at eye level with him. Vulpes moved closer, curious about what she would say. He found himself shocked. "Benny, honey," she cooed seductively. Something about her tone made Vulpes want to kick a hole through the Chairman's ribcage. "So glad to see you alive." _That_ was perhaps the last thing he expected to come out of her mouth.

"R…really?" he had said.

"Oh yeah," the courier said, voice still soft. "If one of these boys had killed you before I could do it... well, I think my heart would just break."

_Ah._

"Listen, kid, it was all a misunderstanding—"

"I'm sure it was," the courier agreed, voice returning to a normal tone. "Just so you know, when I strangle you with your own innards, you can consider that a _misunderstanding_, too. And if you call me kid again I'm going to press my thumbs into your eyes until you stop twitching, and the only thing that will stop me is if one of these Legion boys is better at getting a bullet into my head than you were."

Vulpes couldn't stop the hint of a laugh from slipping out when he heard that. He had coughed to disguise the sound quickly, but from the way she smirked he knew he had failed. "How far back do you think I'd have to go before I hit brain? This far?" Holding one hand out, she put her thumb up. "Hm... considering the surroundings, this seems more apt..." she turned her hand so the thumb pointed downwards. The same gesture Caesar used while watching fights in the arena... when he thought the fighter should kill his defeated opponent. Vulpes was impressed she knew so much about them. "See you soon, fucker."

She snorted at his expression of fear, standing once more. Vulpes couldn't stop himself from snickering again when she kicked Benny in the chest before walking out without a further word.

Lucius burst into laughter as soon as she had left the tent. "What?" Caesar asked, looking up. He seemed lost in thought, and was still staring at the door. Vulpes suspected his head was troubling him.

"Him," Lucius said, gesturing to Vulpes.

"What about me?" he had asked, sitting down to return to his book.

"Nothing at all," the iron-haired praetorian said, sitting down. "I shouldn't even be surprised, really. Vulpes Inculta apparently likes his women disturbing and murderous. Fitting. No wonder you're too good for the slaves."

Vulpes sighed. "Don't I spend more than enough time surrounded by craven idiots crying and begging me to leave them alone while I'm _working_?" he asked. "Sorry if those aren't things I want to seek out in my free time; they're not traits I find particularly arousing."

"So take her," one of the younger praetorians said.

Everyone turned as one to stare. "Did you miss where I said she's a guest here?" Caesar barked. "No one touches the courier." He pointed to Vulpes. "Including you."

Vulpes raised his hands. "I hadn't planned on it, my Lord."

"She gets me New Vegas, well, maybe then we'll talk." He went silent for a moment, Vulpes realized Caesar was actually being serious. "I'll have to find _someplace_ for the woman. Can't exactly make her a Centurian, can we?"

"Too bad," Lucius said, "I'm pretty sure she could make Aurelius cry without much effort."

At that everyone laughed, and the tension was broken.

* * *

_Vault 24, Arizona  
June 4, 2285_

"So what would you have done if the vault wasn't empty?" A male voice, almost too soft to hear. Cato crept closer to the doorway, not wanting to draw near enough that his shadow would fall into their line of sight if one glanced over at the doorway.

"Not empty with what? It makes a difference. Bunch of families don't get the same reaction as a bunch of raiders." He was speaking to a woman; she sounded young. "Families I'd be nice to. See if they wanted to trade or something."

"I know _that_," he said. "Say it's raiders."

"Do they know I'm there?"

There was a silence. "Let's hear both."

Feminine laughter then. "If they know I'm there, I start shooting and hope I get them before they get me." He laughed at that. "If they don't... well, take out any guards. No guns. Straight razor, maybe. Machete, knife. Something fast and quiet, so they can't get everyone's attention." There was a scuffling sound. "Pig. Share that with me!" The laughter was rougher this time, and louder. When she spoke again her words were slightly garbled, as though she was eating at the same time. "Toss a few grenades in and hide around the corner. Start shooting after they go off. Dynamite works, too. Not as good, but easier to get."

"I've never seen you use a grenade."

"You haven't seen me shave my legs, either, but that doesn't mean it never happens."

"No, that I've seen." They both laughed and there was the sound of a hand slapping skin. Cato suspected she had hit him, although it didn't seem to actually be hostile. After a bit of joking back and forth, she started talking again.

"_Anyways,_ you creepy spying jerk, like I was saying, grenades." She was talking a lot, without interruption, going into great detail about assaulting any location when vastly outnumbered. The methods she described were unorthodox, but generally sound. Well, as sound as any pointless suicide mission could be. Cato wondered briefly if she was NCR, perhaps a ranger. They weren't generally in the habit of killing off vaults full of raiders for no reason, though. Her speech patterns didn't fit the west coast, either. It was the accent of a local, someone who had been raised in the Mojave. The NCR hadn't done very much to endear themselves to the people of New Vegas. Finding a ranger with a Mojave accent would be rare. "Point being, smartest thing is to set up a bottleneck," she said with an air of finality. "Then pick them off one at a time, bang bang bang."

"Bang," came a voice directly behind him. Cato froze, he could feel something cold on the back of his neck... it didn't take a much for him to guess what. "Stand up… slowly," the voice went on.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. How had they managed to surprise him? No one should be able to sneak up on a frumentarii.

"You're not my type," the man replied, "and I suspect she'd gut you alive." Now that he was standing so close, his voice sounded incredibly familiar.

Cato saw the woman step out from the door as he slowly stood. Small black boots leading to skinny legs in leather, a short blue garment that might have been a skirt on top; her clothing was that of a mercenary, but the pistol in her hand was too nice for some wasteland trash gun-for-hire. Was that _gold? _ Where would someone even find such a thing? She was looking at him with dark eyes that seemed far too cold for the soft young face surrounding them. After a moment he realized how he knew that face.

_Victory at Hoover Dam_, he thought. She had been smiling in the propaganda shots. She wasn't smiling now.

_Surprising_. Seeing her, the pieces fell into place, and Cato suddenly understood why the voice behind him was so familiar... and why he was able to sneak up on him. The most unlikely story appeared to be the truth. There had to be more going on, though.

"So you _do_ travel with a profligate, Vulpes? I had heard the rumors, but I have to admit, I'm still surprised to see it's true."

Her eyes widened, clearly shocked. He was right.

The gun pressed into his neck disappeared, but hers went up at the same moment. He had signaled her, then. Whatever was going on, they trusted each other. Hands dropped to his shoulders and Cato was roughly spun around to face the person behind him.

There was no mistaking the face. It wore a surprised expression, something that happened _very_ rarely, but even then it was almost as familiar as his own. "Maria, you can put your gun aside," Vulpes said, not looking away. "Cato is an old friend." There was a heavy pause before he added, "or was—"

"Don't insult me, you pompous ass," Cato replied, quickly embracing the man. Vulpes relaxed, putting an arm around his shoulder and guiding him towards the woman, who was still eyeing him warily. There was a fresh bruise on Vulpes' neck, very small and half hidden under his armor. Now that they were standing so close, Cato realized the man positively _reeked_ of sweat and woman. All he would need was a dousing in cheap cologne to smell exactly like a brothel bed. Glancing over at the woman once more, Cato resisted the urge to burst into laughter.

_Vulpes, you dog, _he thought, and then had to fight the laughter even harder_. "How in hades did you…" _he whispered.

_"It's a very long story_," came the reply.

_"You letch. What is she, twenty?"_

"Yeah, I have no idea you're talking about me," the courier said, interrupting. "Suddenly whispering while _staring_ doesn't make me at all suspicious. Because I'm just that dumb. And I'm twenty five."

Vulpes gestured to Cato, a familiar signal. _Wait._

Cato could follow orders. He waited, glancing around while Vulpes walked over to the woman. He tried not to be obvious about his attempts to listen to their argument. The two were whispering, her hands animated, his gestures more calming. Finally, she seemed to agree to whatever he had been asking. "_Fine,"_ she snapped, annoyance making her voice louder. "_He tries anything and I'll skin him alive."_

_"_I know," Vulpes said, briefly brushing his hand against her cheek and not bothering to whisper.

"Stay where I can see you," was what she told his back as Vulpes returned to Cato's side.

"_Enough_, Maria_,_" he said. She didn't argue, but Cato could hear her make a sound of annoyance. "Walk with me," was what he said to Cato.

"There's a gun pointed at my back, isn't there?"

"Probably," Vulpes agreed. "I wouldn't worry, Maria has a steady hand."

"Great," Cato said, not able to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "I wouldn't have expected to find you playing house with the courier. How the fuck did that happen?"

"Gradually?" Vulpes said. "It wasn't something I sought out, believe me." He looked embarrassed. "The NCR had almost caught me. They cornered me in a barn. She just happened to be sleeping in the hayloft."

"She _helped_ you?" it seemed surprising. Cato had never pegged her as an NCR hardliner, but she did pick sides during the Hoover Dam years, and it wasn't the Legion she chose.

"Not exactly," Vulpes said. "They had a flamethrower, and she didn't like that... quite understandably." He turned his head to the side, hand moving up. Cato noticed Vulpes was wearing his hair longer than it was when they last saw each other. He assumed it was the woman's influence. He had always simply cropped his as short as he could without shaving his head. He didn't actually _care_ how it looked. This was longer, a decent mimicry of one of the stone heads from a book of the ancient world. The political implications of wearing his hair like an ancient Caesar were forgotten, though, when Cato realized what he was seeing. Hidden not far above his ear was a brutal scar, the tell-tale mark of a bullet wound. Small lines trailed out on either side, as though someone had opened it wider before stitching it closed again.

"Gods…" Cato said, staring.

"She took them out," Vulpes said, "and tripped over me bleeding to death when she was running off."

"And just decided to patch you up?"

"So it would seem," he said.

"How romantic." Cato wasn't particularly impressed. Battlefield romance? He would have expected Vulpes not to get caught up in that sort of sentimental bullshit.

"Not really," Vulpes said. "I was angry that she used chems on me, she implied fears that I would have her killed, and when I left I assumed I'd never see her again." He looked away.

"There's more." Cato had spent years, decades, living and working alongside Vulpes. He knew the man as well as anyone could.

"Isn't there always?" Vulpes asked, almost smiling.

Cato stared at him. "You didn't want to be saved," was what he finally said.

Vulpes shrugged. "If that was the case… you know I would never admit it." He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Glancing back to where the courier was standing, he seemed to brighten slightly. "The gods have their reasons," he said.

"The _gods_?" He shook his head. "Mars' spear… I think your brains were scrambled by that bullet. What, you think the gods saved you so you could get laid?" He always thought Vulpes could use a bit of fun in his life, this seemed far too out of character.

"That isn't what I mean," he said. "I'm simply saying that there are larger forces at work than we can see." He turned his head, facing Cato. Could she read lips? It certainly seemed like he was hiding from that. "She isn't _normal_," Vulpes said, whispering. "What Maria's been through, what she's survived… that sort of thing simply shouldn't happen." He met Cato's smile with his own. "I know, I know… I sound insane. But look at me. I was _shot in the head_. How am I even standing here? And her? A bullet in the head is the _least _of the deadly injuries she's survived. Luck like that simply doesn't exist. I'm telling you, there's something strange about her. It's as though she's got Fortuna watching her every move."

Cato tried not to roll his eyes. Vulpes had always been so much more devout than him. One could almost forget he was born a tribal heathen; he had embraced the faith of the Legion so thoroughly you would think it was all he had ever known. "I see," he said, trying not to laugh. Glancing up at the ceiling, he grinned. "You know, for the record, I'd be _much_ more devout if I got a walking lucky charm in the shape of a twenty year old girl that sucked my dick. Just saying, Mars…"

"Could you be any more of an ass?"

"Of course I could," Cato said. "I could ask you to share."

"You _could," _Vulpes agreed. "You could also spend your last hours in unspeakable agony, praying for death to end your suffering."

He did laugh then, relaxing as he saw this was still the man he had known for so many years. "_Why_ have I missed you?" he asked.

"Damned if I know."

"And yet I have," he said. "A _lot_ of people have." Vulpes looked up at that. "It's no secret why you were sent off." He didn't reply, but continued to stare, those unnerving pale eyes glaring at him. "We all knew the order of succession. The legate was dead. The head of the Praetorians was never even in line, but he was dead, too. We _thought _you were dead. When you weren't… well, it wasn't as though things were ambiguous." He relaxed very slightly, hearing Cato say something treasonous enough to get him on a cross if it were ever overheard by the wrong people. So did that mean Vulpes _was_ planning to challenge Aurelius? He shouldn't have been surprised.

"Hm," was all he said, clearly not wanting to admit anything.

"Personally," Cato said, digging his grave deeper, "I say if that profligate Aurelius is the chosen of Mars, I've got a three hundred pound one-eyed kitchen slave that's the chosen of Venus." Treason, heresy… what more would Vulpes need to accept that they were on the same side... whatever that side was.

"She's still around?" He hadn't expected the man to remember such a mundane detail. His memory was the main reason he had been so successful as a frumentarius, though. It certainly wasn't his ability to casually blend in. "The woman has to be near sixty."

"Near seventy," Cato corrected. "And never shuts up about me not eating enough. I swear you'd think she was my mother."

"Fine cook, though," Vulpes said.

"Absolutely," Cato agreed, wondering why he was making such mindless small talk.

"So where are you heading next?"

Cato shrugged. "I'm in no rush to get back to Flagstaff. Might swing by the old fort, see if anything good was left behind. Most of Caesar's personal papers have vanished, I think someone just left everything there."

_Is he really going to buy that? _

He felt guilty, manipulating Vulpes like this. Cato had been deeply disturbed by something in his eyes when he danced around being saved by the Courier, though. He had seen despair.

If he was happy with the girl, fine. Fantastic. He would be the first to make an offering to Venus on their behalf. Cato was in no position to judge. But Vulpes seemed to have some bizarre quasi-religious fascination built up around her that was sustaining him. Someday, probably very soon, he would realize Fortuna's chosen was really nothing more than a violent young woman with an unusual knack for medicine and no supernatural powers whatsoever. What would happen on that day?

Cato didn't want to find out, but he would make sure he was there when it happened. If the promise of Caesar's personal papers were enough to keep them together, so be it.

After all, Vulpes was the only family he had left.

* * *

_A/N We all know Vulpes would completely love Machiavelli. And totally miss the whole satire aspect. _  
_Thanks so much to everyone reading. I love to get your reviews, it's great knowing people are enjoying this so far. :)_  
_Title is a Jean Chapel song from 1956. _


	19. Send in the Vipers

"They were there," Boone said, breath nearly burning Arcade's eyes. "We just missed them."

Arcade debated biting his tongue but, after a handful of drinks with the sniper and Cassidy, decided he had the right to be blunt. "And what would you have done if you'd caught them?" he asked. "Put a bullet between her eyes? That's quite the thank you for all those times she hauled your drunken ass from the fire."

That was much more blunt than he'd expected it to sound. He braced himself, preparing to be hit. The blow didn't come.

"No," Boone said finally. "There's more going on. Maybe she has that…" he waved his hand around, sloshing something amber colored and caustic smelling onto the table, "that disease. That kidnapped people get. What's it called?"

"The clap?" Cassidy offered. Both men turned to stare, and she shrugged, smirking. "What?"

"Right, time to ignore you," Arcade said, rolling his eyes. Boone couldn't quite let go of the idea that she was kidnapped, but Cassidy had _seen_ them together, and insisted Maria was anything but fleeing the man.

"Stockholm," Boone finally said, after giving Cass the finger.

"Who is that?" she asked.

"It was a where, not a who. A city, in the days before the war," Arcade said. "In Europe."

"Was it?" Boone looked confused. "I thought it was a disease," Boone said. "Like, a brain disease."

"It's that, too," Arcade admitted. He had never _seen_ it, but he had read about it in old medical books.

"Some of the docs at the NCR, they said a lot of Legion captives get it. They start to think… they're part of it. That they're, you know, on the same side as their kidnappers. Men start fighting along side them, chanting in Latin and all. There've even been slaves who attack people trying to rescue them. Takes forever to make them normal again if you get them out. Their heads get all… scrambled." It was clear he had put a great deal of thought into this. From Boone that was practically a speech.

Glaring at Cass, Arcade tried to will her to be silent. It didn't work. "Lucky for doghead, Maria's brains were already scrambled when he got there."

"Thank you," Arcade grumbled. He knew that wasn't the case, but it was just what they needed: another half-assed theory for Boone to carry off to the NCR. Maria might not have been able to predict the consequences of her actions, but she was still perfectly capable of telling right from wrong, and almost always picked the choice most sane people would describe as 'right.' Her brain wasn't _that_ damaged.

Sometimes he suspected her brain was barely damaged at all, that she was only playing dumb. The memory loss made sense, given the extent of the frontal lobe scarring, but Arcade occasionally believed that she was fully aware of what would result from her crazier ideas, and simply didn't _care_. The thrill of the moment was more important than the long term ramifications. Arcade wondered if the ignorance was just an act so she could keep doing what she wanted without consequence. It wouldn't have shocked him in the least. After all, she was perfectly capable of displaying forethought when it suited her. Arcade had sat next to her with maps, mostly listening while they planned out the best way to sneak through a live munitions range, he had heard about her organizing the defense of Goodsprings from the powder gangers over a single afternoon- hours after getting the bullets picked from her head, no less. Hell, she had been the one to point out what would have happened to the elderly members of the Enclave once the war was over if they had stepped forward.

It was only when she got caught doing something bizarrely reckless, something near-suicidal, that her excuses came out.

Arcade doubted he would ever get the truth out of her… even if they _did_ ever see each other again.

* * *

The three were sitting together on the floor, forming a triangle. Vulpes smiled to himself as he drank his cola. His second in command, at his side once more: yet another occurrence that felt too farfetched to be coincidental.

He felt better having Cato Hostillius there. The man was abrasive, yes, but he had always one of the few people Vulpes had been able to trust implicitly in the past. On a gut level, Vulpes knew he could be trusted still. He would never dare to disparage Maria's abilities: even discounting whatever feelings he might have had for her, Vulpes would readily admit she had proven, over and over again, to be a valuable ally. She was a straight shot, quick with a blade, and utterly dependable in a fight. But she was a woman. Women were, at their very core, emotional creatures. She couldn't help it: that was simply how the gods had made her. He _needed _someone like Cato, someone steady who wouldn't let feelings cloud his judgment.

Of course, the two were currently standing across the room from each other, eyeing one another warily, neither speaking a word. Cato had politely told them he wasn't hungry when Maria made food, something she had only done very grudgingly. It had taken Vulpes hinting that Cato might perhaps say more were she not standing right there just to get her to agree. When he refused she just narrowed her eyes, stuck her finger in the middle of the dish, licked it clean, and sneered. "_There,_" she had snapped. "I didn't poison it."

Which was, as Vulpes knew, exactly what Cato had feared.

"Really?" Vulpes had whispered after she stormed off in anger. "You thought she would _poison_ you? _Why?_ To what end?" While he didn't doubt Maria would be capable of such a thing, he could see no reasonable reason for it right now.

"I trust _you_," Cato replied. "We've known each other all our lives. I've known _her_ for an hour."

He sighed. "My word isn't enough for you?"

"No," Cato replied. "All things considered, it isn't. You still _smell_ like her." Vulpes couldn't stop himself from sniffing his arm, causing Cato to laugh.

"Regardless," he finally said when Cato was done snickering at his expense, "you should know _me_ better than that." He ignored the eye roll. "Why would you even think she would _want_ to poison you? What would be the purpose?"

"Crazy people are unpredictable. I make a point of not trusting them with my life."

"She isn't crazy." He felt a surge of anger. "Simply being shot in the head isn't enough to turn a person crazy. I know what people have said about her. I spread some of those rumors myself when she sided with the NCR. It isn't true."

Cato stared at him for a moment. "Fox, it's got nothing to do with the bullet in her head… she's fucking you. That's enough for me to know she's completely insane."

Vulpes felt his fist close and arm draw back before he realized what he was doing. Catching himself, he took a breath. Cato was eyeing him warily.

"I guess I can be glad you weren't holding a gun at the time," he mused. "I didn't mean it as an insult to you. It's just… she's a fucking profligate. She's some New Vegas kid who lives in a casino. And rich as Dis, if I'm not mistaken."

"She's _dissolute_," Vulpes admitted. "I would hardly consider her a profligate, though. She doesn't even drink!"

"Tell that to Caesar," Cato replied. "Wait. You can't. Since he dropped dead after the battle of Hoover Dam, with blood gushing from his fucking ears. While she was on the other side having a victory party." He shrugged while Vulpes fought to keep his temper in check. "Whatever," Cato finally said. "You're in the _Legion_. You know damn well women don't _like_ that. Not unless you can do something for them. But you don't have a nice house in Flagstaff anymore, or money for gifts. You don't have _power_. You're basically a homeless vagrant. The only thing that could make you _less_ appealing would be a jet habit and some kind of bowel condition."

"I'm very tempted to kill you."

"I don't doubt it." Cato looked at Vulpes with pity. That was the worst part of all. He wasn't being cruel… he was only delivering what he believed to be a very cruel truth.

What _did_ she see in him? Was there some ulterior motive?

Vulpes shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. Cato had appeared out of nowhere, he didn't understand the situation, there was no reason for Vulpes to let his comments worry him.

"At least you know she's not out to kill you," Cato mused. "You would already be dead." Vulpes snorted and Cato moved closer. "Don't take this the wrong way," he said, "but let me demonstrate." Putting a hand gently against Vulpes' neck, he looked into his eyes. "There's a razor blade tucked between my fingers and now you're dead," Cato whispered before backing off.

"Huh," was all Vulpes could say, raising his hand to his throat. His fellow frumentarii was sitting calmly, looking pleased with himself.

"I convinced a whore to kill someone for me like that once," Cato said. "When I was undercover in New Reno." He stretched out. "You know, the frumentarii would get a _lot_ more done if they took in women. Men get stupid around a nice set of tits. And women are pretty fucking devious when left to their own devices." He shrugged. "Or not. It was something Alero and I came up with once. But, truth be told, we were both exhausted enough at the time that recruiting deathclaws would have probably seemed just as smart. They're about as trustworthy." He looked at Vulpes. "Doesn't matter, though. The point is, she's got an agenda. No idea what it is, but she'd be a madwoman not to have one." He gave him a look of pity: poor, deceived Vulpes, falling for a woman's lies.

Vulpes stared at him. "I wasn't surprised she could kill me. I was surprised that you, evidently, think I'm a drooling fucking imbecile. You think I never considered that? You think I didn't figure that out when I was a teenager?" He stood up, needed to stop thinking about this, to get away from Cato's unwanted sympathy and insulting concern. "I would have left her in Freeside for the NCR if I wasn't utterly confident she could be trusted."

"How can you be sure?"

Cato was staring at him. Vulpes couldn't answer. Not yet, at least. "I just knew," he said. If one of his men had ever given him such a pathetic explanation they would have been flogged. Cato knew it, too.

"Fine, don't tell me," he said.

"If I take a shower can I trust you'll both be alive when I'm done?"

"I don't plan to start anything."

"You didn't say yes."

"You're right," Cato agreed. "I didn't. Very smart. That's the sort of keen observation that made you Caesar's favorite." Vulpes stared at him, folding his arms. "Fine, fine," Cato said, waving him off. "Please. Shower. By all means. You stink like a whorehouse."

* * *

Vulpes rolled his eyes before walking off, not saying anything else. Cato knew he was being far more critical than necessary, but he felt annoyed. When he realized it was Vulpes he had been, very briefly, elated. Vulpes could bring about some change, no question. He would just kill his way through anything that tried to stop him, and come out looking like a prince on the other side.

Or, he would have, at one time. There was something extremely _wrong_ about watching one of the most pragmatic, dispassionate men he had ever known practically dote over some wasteland refugee.

As if on cue, Cato heard boots on metal floors. "Oh," the courier said, glancing around and seeing Vulpes was absent.

"He's showering," Cato said. She must have missed him in the vault's labyrinthine hallways, her wet hair made it clear where she had been. "Do you always stomp so loudly?"

"Would I still be alive if I did?" she said. "I was trying to be polite. I didn't want you to think I was trying to sneak up on you." She rolled her eyes. "Vulpes said the same thing."

He had to admit she had a point.

She was standing in the doorway, glancing around. The cuffs of her sleeves were clenched in her fists as she shuffled her feet, clearly torn between staying and bolting from the room.

Cato weighed the situation. It was, truth be told, hardly her fault if Vulpes had gone soft. Well, no, it likely was her _fault,_ just not through any deliberate actions_. _He had been alone for a very long time, who knows how starved for company and conversation the man had become after more than two years on the run. A small amount of kindness could go a long way towards earning his trust in those circumstances; especially if the source was an attractive young woman. Saving someone's life certainly went above and beyond a simple kindness.

Regardless of how this happened, it was more than obvious she was there to stay, at least for the moment. It would be in his best interests to get on her good side, or he could end up waking to a knife at his throat the first time she took a watch.

"Want an apple?" he asked, reaching into his pack.

Her eyes went wide. "_Real_ apples?" she asked. "Not Dandy Boy?"

"Real," he confirmed, tossing her one. "Legion grows them up around Boulder."

She caught it in midair, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "Thanks. I haven't had fruit in ages. Probably halfway to malnutrition or something by now."

"Don't tell Vulpes," he said. "He'll raid my bag as soon as my back is turned."

"No he won't," she said. Cato raised an eyebrow. "He's too busy trying to get to the candy in my bag that I'm keeping from him. He won't be happy until he rots his teeth from his head." Cato shook his head at that. Vulpes hadn't changed _entirely,_ at least.

"Probably not," Cato agreed. "So…" he trailed off, not sure what to say.

"Go ahead," she said.

"With what?"

"Whatever you wanted to ask me."

"You'll answer?" He doubted that.

"Didn't say that. But I'm curious about what you'll ask," she shrugged. "And I'd like to think I'm civil enough that I won't open someone's throat over a question." He couldn't tell if she was kidding or not. She wasn't smiling.

"All right," he said, leaning against the far wall. "You sided with the NCR."

"Yep." She didn't appear apologetic. "Was that a question?"

"Not really," he admitted. "Just… confirming." Cato looked at her, trying to read her body language. He couldn't. She was sitting, legs folded, staring forward calmly. Her face had no real expression to speak of, but there was something off-putting about it none the less. There was a coldness he wouldn't have expected in someone so young. "So you sided with the NCR," he repeated. "Why help Vulpes?"

"He was bleeding to death," she said. "He got shot in the head." Her tone made it clear she thought there were no other options. He might as well have asked if the Mojave was warm.

"And?" he pressed. "Don't act like you have some _moral _problem with dead Legionaries. You've killed more than a few yourself."

"I didn't shoot _him_." She was starting to fidget nervously. "He had a bullet in his _head_. I couldn't leave. It…."

He watched her hands. She was rubbing her head, as if sore. Her hair was pushed aside by the motion, and Cato could see a pale oval between the dark strands, a dent on her forehead that seemed to go deeper than the skin and tissue. _Ah_. There was his answer.

"It was a bit too close to home?"

She froze for a second, nearly going crosseyed as she looked at her hands. "Yeah," the woman said, lowering them slowly, expression embarrassed. "Something like that, I guess." There seemed to be more, so Cato remained silent. He wondered if she would speak on her own. "He never did anything to me," she told him. "The NCR always talked to me like I was a kid, or the hired help. And then they fucked over everyone in Freeside and New Vegas first chance they got. House talked to me like I was an idiot, and he was a fucking crime against nature, anyways. The rest of _your_ sort… well, I don't think I need to explain that." She gave him a pointed look and Cato nodded, seeing no reason to argue. "But Vulpes was always polite to me. Nice. Respectful."

She seemed so sincere; Cato was almost tempted to leave her illusions undisturbed. Almost. "You _do_ know he was a spy, right?" he asked. "He was told, in absolutely no uncertain terms, to win you over. _Of course_ he was polite. He would have bought you dinner and taken you dancing if Caesar had told him it was necessary."

She shrugged. "Everyone wanted to win me over. No one else bothered being nice, though." Cato tried not to roll his eyes, although her dogged insistence on remaining naive was more than a little annoying. He wondered what Vulpes would do if she was told about her potential fate as a spoil of war. Cato suspected it would involve knives. And a crucifix. And a substantial amount of pain. He kept his mouth shut.

Vulpes eyed them warily when he returned, focusing his look on Cato. "Don't worry," Cato said, "I didn't tell her any horrifying stories. Like when you drowned an entire NCR outpost in so much nuclear sludge it turned them into crazed ghouls because you thought hitting the camp with a fat man wasn't a strong enough message."

"I knew about that," Maria said.

"Vault 3," was all Vulpes told her, holding a finger up. She shrugged, posture indifferent.

"I was there once," Cato said. "Looked like a bloodbath. Corpses wall to wall. I think the NCR must have been trying to make an example of them."

"No," Vulpes said. "Just Maria."

"I don't like Fiends," she said flatly. "They're a bunch of scumbags, and they're all high on chems." Cato tried to keep his expression neutral, thinking back at the grisly scene. The solitary bodies had been killed with wounds to the head, single bullets. The grouped bodies had been hacked to bits. Empty stimpack syringes littered the ground, and every item of value was gone.

Truth be told, it had left him on edge. He assumed the NCR had taken a more aggressive turn, based on the ferocity of the wreckage. The only thing in their territory that he had found more jarring was—

"The prison," he said. "That was you as well?"

"Fuckers deserved it," she said. "Throw dynamite at me?" Maria snorted in derision.

"So you killed everyone left in the prison?"

"And then I tracked down all of their little nests along the railroad tracks and killed everyone at each of those, too." She looked pleased with herself, the smile causing her to look even younger. "The world is better off without people like that."

Vulpes made a noise of agreement, smiling and resting his hand on her leg.

Suddenly this made far more sense.

* * *

Maria was flopping around in bed, keeping him awake. "I'm _cold,_" she said, shoving him. Apparently if she was suffering, Maria wanted to make sure he would, too.

"I'm not," came Vulpes' drowsy reply. He found the temperature in the vault incredibly comfortable. It was the _only_ thing he found comfortable about the place. Everything else made him feel like he was in some kind of metal tomb.

"So what, because you're warm I can't have a blanket, either? Acclimate to the climate or suffer. That's the Legion way!" He turned his head slightly, opening his eyes part-way while she continued the rant. "A desire for blankets is a clear weakness, brought on by an unhealthy dependency on the old world."

Vulpes sighed. "Are you done?"

She went on. "If you're cold grow more hair or climb on the tire fire with the rest of the profligates!"

He sat up, glaring before walking out of the room.

Returning to Maria, Vulpes dumped half a dozen old woolen blankets on her head. "Bundle up," he said flatly before stretching out on the bed. "Don't grow more hair." He started laughing a moment later, watching her flail around trying to free herself from the heavy cloth.

"Yrrmwwwk!" she shouted from under her prison. It was followed by several other incoherent sounds.

"I'm sorry," Vulpes said, pulling the wool back. "I don't speak deranged lunatic. You'll have to repeat that in English."

"I said _you jerk_," she replied, taking several deep breaths.

_"Me?" _he said. "You're the one acting as though I'm some sort of… joyless dictator."

"Only sometimes," she said, curling up on her side under just two of the blankets. "You're getting better."

"Hm," he said finally, trying not to think about what Cato had told him earlier. "If that's the case… maybe I should relax more."

"You should," she agreed.

"All right," he said. "Perhaps I'll take up drinking. Or chems. I have heard that jet can be exciting."

Maria's eyes shot open. "Oh, fuck you," she laughed, seeing his smirk.

"Again?" He dropped to his back on the mattress, staring at her. "Gods above, woman, I'm not a teenager. Give me some time to recover before you decide to climb back on there."

To his surprise, she blushed a furious crimson, mouth open in shock, before punching his shoulder repeatedly. "You _pig! _I didn't mean _that!_"

"My, my," he said, chuckling. "How demure you've grown in the last… what, hour?" She didn't reply, only making a small squeak of contentment as she burrowed deeper under the blankets. "You know," Vulpes said casually, "Cato thinks you have an agenda."

He couldn't resist saying something. He had to know how she would respond.

"Does he now?" Maria replied, rolling to her back and pushing the blanket down so her face was uncovered. She seemed completely unconcerned. "He actually felt the need to point that out? Everybody has an agenda. Unless they're an idiot."

"And yours?"

She stared at him calmly. "I figured I made it pretty obvious. It _was_ to stay alive. Then became to find out what the fuck you were keeping from me. Then I did that. Well… you told me. I don't think I _ever _would have guessed 'voice of Mars living in your head' on my own. Same outcome, though." None of this came as a surprise. "What, did he think I was working on some elaborate seduction plan to gain your trust and destroy you or something?" Vulpes didn't answer and she laughed. "He's giving me _way_ too much credit," she said. "Or you not enough."

"Perhaps both," Vulpes admitted. Cato was trustworthy, he was honest… but he didn't always have as much respect for him as Vulpes would have liked.

It came with the territory, though. By the average person's standards, that was likely the most normal thing about them. "I don't think he's ever entirely forgiven me for advancing past him. That, and he's something of an asshole. I don't think he has any control over that, though. Cato's always been that way." He leaned back against the headboard. "But he is an asshole I can trust, and that is a rare thing for me right now."

"You're _sure_ you can trust him? You two don't even seem to like each other very much."

"He asked the same of you," Vulpes said. "Yes, I am."

Maria wouldn't leave it at that, though. "Did your buddy tell you?" she asked, gesturing to his head.

"What?" Vulpes said, laughing. "You think Mars cares about every detail of my life? Of course not. It's because he's my brother."

* * *

_A/N: You know what's better than sitting in an airport? Pretty much everything. I hope everyone had a joyful Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, and the gods found your sacrificial bulls acceptable, or, you know, whatever dressed up pagan feast you happen to celebrate. _

_Also. I am on tumblr now, under the name amhran-comhrac (surprising, I know). So... yep._  
_Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!_


	20. Dreams are getting better all the time

"I don't see it," the courier said, glancing from Cato to Vulpes. She was staring intently. "I dunno… maybe a bit around the chin. Or the brow line. Not much, though."

Cato ignored her, turning to Vulpes. "You told her?"

He nodded, shrugging slightly.

"Really?" Cato clenched his fists, tempted to throttle Fox. "_Really? _Did that bullet scramble your brain and turn you into a twelve year old girl? Mars's fucking cock, Fox, did you really have to go and spill your guts to the first woman to give you the time of day? Was exile that fucking lonely?"

There was a _reason_ their relationship wasn't common knowledge. The Legion expected men to put all traces of their old life behind. When you marched under the bull, they became your family. Anything else was viewed with suspicion about where your loyalty could fall.

They hadn't told anyone at first, Cato had insisted on it. Siblings were being split up, and Fox had been so damn _young_ when their tribe was conquered; Cato wanted to keep an eye on him, keep him safe. It's what their father would have wanted. By the time they were old enough and high ranking enough that it wouldn't have mattered, well… that would have involved admitting they kept it a secret for decades. Not something that could end well for either of them. Especially not when Fox kept promoting Cato up the ranks with him.

"I don't want you to spread this around," Cato told the courier, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

She just rolled her eyes at him before turning to Fox, squealing high enough to shatter glass, and saying "ohmygodddd, did you know Cato was your brother?!" She turned back to him and folded her arms. "There, I've told every single person I speak to in the entire fucking world." He didn't reply and she rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not an idiot. I can imagine the Legion wouldn't be too keen on you guys keeping ties to your old families… divided loyalty, some shit like that. Makes sense you wouldn't blab." The courier was studying both of them again. "You don't look a damn thing alike anyways, so that probably helped."

"Same father, different mothers," Cato said. "Important men in our tribe could take more than one wife." He grabbed Vulpes by the chin. "You can tell he takes after his mother. So pretty. Just look at those cheekbones."

"Fuck you," Vulpes slapped his hand away. "Ass."

"Oh, you know I'm just jealous. I could only dream of having slave girls come on to _me _just for pointing my baby-blues in their direction."

Vulpes stared at him, glowering. "This conversation is over as of now. Anyone who decides to continue it will be stabbed."

"Please, we all know _The Great Vulpes Inculta_ is too good for slaves," Cato laughed, not dropping the subject and enjoying embarrassing him. Vulpes might threaten him, but he wouldn't _actually_ stab him. Not unless he had a damn good reason, at least. Teasing was hardly a good reason.

"You would really stab me?" the courier asked him.

Cato rolled his eyes. "From the sounds of it, he was for half the night."

"_Cato_."

"All right, all right," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Forget I said anything. Just like I'm trying to forget waking up to hear her threatening to kill you if you stopped… whatever it was you were doing."

Maria made a small squeaking sound and Cato laughed to see her face turning a deep crimson before she turned away in embarrassment.

In truth, Cato had woken halfway through the night, but it wasn't due to any sounds they might have been making. He couldn't even hear them until he started pacing the halls, desperate to forget the nightmare that had left him sweating and struggling for air.

_He could smell fire._

_Not here, not here, he thought to himself, fighting back against the memories. He wanted to wake up. Wake up and see his own ceiling above him. He knew it was a dream, but his heart pounded like it would burst none the less._

_Running through the tiny settlement, Cato hunted for his mother. Somehow he believed if he could get home, get to her, he would be safe. It was dream-logic, the sort of thing only an unconscious adult, or a child, could possibly believe was true._

_She sees him approach and screams his name. "Hide," she says. "You must hide!" Was she ever this tall? Was he ever really so short? _

_Cato argues. He grabs his father's second spear, the spear he would be given next summer when he reached the age of manhood. "No, I'll protect you," he tells her, full of a youth's bravado. _

_She refuses, demanding he hide again. Cato, not yet a man, has no choice but to obey._

_"Stay quiet!" she demands. "Don't come out until someone you know says it's safe."_

_From his vantage point under a cot, he sees boots storm in. In the dream they're speaking Latin, but he remembers- they spoke normal English. There is shouting, his mother's voice is high pitched, pleading. She is crying. A weight lands on the bed and, from above, he hears his mother's sob. _

_The sound is cut off by a man's scream, this one of agony. Silence, broken by the heavy breathing of his mother and angry words from the men, followed by a loud bang. He sees a thin arm, freckled, drop casually over the edge. He would know the tattoos circling her wrist anywhere, the markings of his tribe. A knife tumbles out of her hand, now slack._

_He can't hear her breathing._

_In the dream something wet is dripping on him. That didn't happen, though, not in real life. It's some embellishment his mind created, a little gift to keep him from forgetting._

_He fights to hold back his cry, but fails. She had asked one thing of him, one thing, and he failed. _

And that was when he woke up. That was when he _always_ woke up.

It didn't matter, though. He knew what happened next. A face, weathered and tan, peeked under the cot to see him. He was pulled out and herded through the village to stand with a group- many of the boys were there, but not all. He had been scared to see how many people were missing. He didn't know where the girls had gone, or the adults.

Most were cowering or crying. Some were injured, but none severely. His heart sank further to realize how few of his friends and cousins were present. Seeing who was there, he groaned softly. If there was anyone he had hoped would die... but no, of course not. There was Fox. Fox, whose mother stole their father away; who now stole their father's time, time that would have been spent with Cato. For almost half his life he had endured comments about how clever Fox was, how tall for his age, how sweet, how much _better_ he was than everyone else.

At the moment he didn't look particularly clever. There was a slash of crimson, recently clotted blood, on his neck. His shirt collar was stained from it, a darkening red. His expression was blank, jaw slack as he stared forward.

Not knowing what else to do, Cato walked over to him. "Our father?" He didn't want to know the answer, but he had to ask. Everyone was suffering their own personal tragedies; they wouldn't have noticed anything else. For Fox, the tragedy was the same.

The smaller boy looked up, blinking. It was the first time Cato had acknowledged to him that they shared a parent. It was probably also one of the first times he had been within feet of the boy and not shoved him aside or knocked him down to the ground, laughing to see him land in the dirt, at the tears that would well in his eyes before he ran off sniveling.

"There," Fox said softly, gesturing in the direction he had been staring.

He slowly looked, knowing he wouldn't want to see it. His father's smile was gone, the dark eyes he had inherited were dull.

So that's why they all carry the big knives, he thought crazily, looking at the stump where his father's neck once met his shoulders, the gore-covered post holding up what remained of him.

Blinking back tears, he turned away. If Fox wasn't crying, neither would he. Warriors didn't cry. He wasn't going to let a boy half his age show him up.

"Your mother?" He wondered if she would take him in, give him a place to go. His father could have made her, if he was alive. Maybe she still would.

"Dead," the smaller boy said flatly. "That one, in black, shot her. Once, right here." He pointed at a tall man, standing off apart from the others, and then tapped his own forehead, between the eyes. "She fell down. She didn't move again."

"I'm sorry."

Fox looked up at him, dark circles making his pale eyes look sunken. _Liar_, his face said. He only shrugged silently.

The men in red and black were coming closer. They weren't taking their spoils and leaving; they were splitting the boys up between several brahman-pulled wagons. With a final glance at what remained of his father, Cato sighed. He knew what the man would have wanted. It wasn't what _he _wanted, but…

"Follow my lead," he whispered to Fox. "Do what I do." He could see several people he knew to be family broken up. It seemed intentional. Anyone who grouped together were split into different wagons.

Watching the patterns, he shifted down several people in the line. It worked, since he and Fox were directed to the same wagon.

Most of the boys were crying, even the older boys. Fox was silent. "We'll be ok," Cato whispered, leaning closer to him.

"Don't be stupid," Fox replied quietly, still staring forward with that cold, lifeless expression on his face. "No we won't."

Cato looked down in surprise. "I'm not," he said. "I hoped you were stupid enough to believe me." Fox didn't reply. He didn't even look over at him, but Cato felt a small hand reaching for his on the bench. "Are you scared?"

"No," came the sharp reply, hand jerking back.

"Oh," he said, realizing the younger boy thought he was mocking him. At one time he might have but now… now it seemed stupid. He had no one else left. "I am."

There was a silence, uncomfortable and drawn out. Although his expression never changed, Cato knew the boy was deciding to trust him or not. Fox called him by his name then, his old name. The name he abandoned. "I lied," he said, so quiet he had to tilt his head to listen. "I am, too." He gripped Fox's hand, careful not to squeeze too hard.

They were silent as the wagons started to move. The wailing from the others became louder as they rolled away, and one of the men made an angry threat. A boy seated near the driver was hit, hard, when his sobs continued. It sent him tumbling into the child next to him.

Fox and Cato remained quiet, though. Both glanced around, watching their captors, watching the other boys, trying to figure out what was wanted of them, and what made the men mad. They were going to survive.

"I used to hope you would be my friend some day," Fox whispered to him that night, as the wheels rumbled against ancient roads.

"I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say. His father had urged him to befriend the boy. _You're his older brother,_ he would say. _You should spend time with him. He really looks up to you. _He hadn't listened. He could try to make up for it now… but part of him knew it would always be too late.

"You ok?"

Startled from his reverie, Cato looked up. The courier was staring down at him with curiosity, dark hair once more arranged perfectly to hide the scar on her head.

"Lost in thought," he said, standing up. "Old memories."

Fox was staring at him. "Some things are best left to die in the past," he said sharply. Fox would never reminisce. _"As far as I am concerned,"_ he said once, many years ago,_ "that pathetic boy died in a tent in Utah. I see no need to fondly discuss once being an ignorant and illiterate savage."_

"Yeah." He brushed his hands together and nodded, glad she didn't press for information.

Walking behind them, Cato sighed to overhear the conversation. Hearing Fox and the courier talking casually didn't improve his mood.

It seemed his brother had found a verbal sparring partner to join in the long, drawn out arguments he so loved. The arguments that seemed to serve no purpose but to demonstrate just how clever he was, and make everyone around him feel slow witted.

They had been discussing a book. Vulpes passed it to Cato, but a couple pages in he gave up. It was all thee and thou, and made his head ache with annoyance. It wasn't even a proper story, just a list of what people were saying to each other. Everyone was named Mac-something or another, and people kept calling each other Thane and Lady.

First they spent an hour or more arguing about if the main character was weak or not. Then it moved on to discussing the main character's wife. They were… gods, they were actually _quoting_ from the book. Without looking at it. _From memory._

"How many times have you read this?" Cato interrupted.

"Just once," the courier said. Fox made a sound of agreement.

He looked from her to him, shaking his head. "Maybe we should start shooting all the new recruits in the head. Not a lot, just one bullet. Just enough to get them to all be smart like freaks."

"I was shot twice," the courier said flatly, looking annoyed.

"Clearly Benny took it a step too far," he said. "But Fox was shot once, and that seemed to turn out rather well." Neither of them were laughing. "That was a _joke_."

"Haha." She made a face at him, turning away. "Fucking bullet destroyed my life."

"Please," Fox said, waving her off. "Don't be so damned melodramatic. You were a _delivery girl_. You were probably the only person working for the Mojave Express that wasn't simply suffering through that dreary job on behalf of the Legion or NCR's intelligence networks. _What_ life?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. Fox seemed unconcerned and returned to discussing the book. After a pause, she did as well.

"I still don't understand why she went insane..." the woman was saying.

"Because women are inherently emotional and unstable creatures," came the response.

"That's such bullshit."

He shrugged. "Believe what you want. We both know you're no better, though. Maria, you're one bad day away from complete drooling lunacy." Vulpes easily caught her hand as it was in midair. "Really, now," he said, laughing as they stood in the sun. "I'm not some New Vegas dandy; I'll gladly hit back. You still want to try?"

"You would hit me?" she sounded shocked.

"You were just about to hit me," he pointed out.

Laughter then: "yeah, I was."

He dropped her wrist, laughing as well.

"I can't go crazy," she said, poking his side in what Cato assumed was some sort of flirtation. "At least one of us has to stay sane. And you claimed insanity way before me."

Vulpes went completely silent, stopping to glare at her. Cato watched her expression close down, as she seemed to draw in on herself, arms folded. They stared at each other for a moment and she bit her lip.

"Sorry," she said. "Ignore me. I'm tired."

Cato was very clearly missing something.

* * *

She didn't like him. Vulpes could hardly blame her, though. Cato was obnoxious, rude, and delighted in embarrassing her.

Of course, he also knew that was the plan.

"Your brother can't stand me," she whispered to him a day later.

"No, he can't." Vulpes brushed her hair aside, one hand lazily stroking her bare shoulder. He could never understand why her skin always felt so much softer than his own. They used the same soap, lived in the same conditions, and yet...

She laughed. "Not even going to try and argue?"

"Why would I bother? You're not an idiot."

They had made camp in one of those tiny buildings that seemed to follow every roadway. _Fueling Station_, the sign had read. There were pictures of cars in the building, she had to assume it was related, that these buildings provided whatever powered the old vehicles.

They were in the back room, Cato in the front, and an elaborate pile of bear traps and mines stood near the only door, just in case.

"What of it?" he asked after a moment. "Will you demand I pick?"

"What kind of asshole do you think I am?" she shot back. "He's your brother. I know a lousy bet when I see it."

He didn't argue, but wrapped an arm tighter around her. "Cato thinks you've made me soft." He hadn't said so, but Vulpes knew the man. He wasn't entirely positive it was wrong, either.

"Please," Maria muttered. "If anything you've made _me_ soft. When was the last time I killed off a vault full of raiders or fucked up the power distribution for the entire Mojave?"

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of people to kill soon enough. And if you have the urge to tamper with the Flagstaff power grid, by all means go right ahead. Try not to electrocute yourself in the process, though. I prefer you _not_ fried to a crisp."

She chuckled, shifting to wrap her arms around him. "Aw," Maria said, planting a kiss on his neck. "You're so good to me."

Vulpes wondered if he should ask what she planned to do about Cato. Would she demand he step between her and Cato? Was it expected of him? He found himself on unfamiliar ground these days.

She rose up on one elbow. "I'm a big girl, I don't need you to force your brother to be _nice_ to me. If he gives me too much trouble I can take care of it." She paused for a moment. "I won't kill him or anything, though. Don't worry."

"I never know what you expect of me in these matters," he said, feeling a sense of relief. There were very few people in this world that were actually of consequence to Vulpes. Having both of them at each other's throats didn't make his life any less stressful. Knowing he wouldn't be forced to mediate was one less worry.

She gave him a strange look. "Expect of you?" Maria seemed amused by this. "I expect you to be you. If I hoped for something different I think it would be my fault, not yours."

* * *

_Happy new year, everyone! My day-job busy season has finally ended, so I actually have the time and energy to write again. It's rather nice. The title was an old big band song and then it was covered by Perry Como in the late 40s/early 50s. It's also my idea of a joke at Cato's expense. Because I can.  
Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! I just hit 80 reviews today and am inordinately excited. I was spoiled by the Dragon Age fandom, so any review in this one is a huge thrill. )_


	21. The Great Pretender

Vulpes sat up with a start. He could hear a clanging sound outside, footsteps… multiple sets. Glancing over, his eyes met Maria's. She, too, was awake. Without a word, she slipped her feet from the bed and into a set of boots. Armor next. He was following the same steps, and finished first. A spy had to get used to dressing quickly in the dark, though.

She raised her arm, elbow bent, to get his attention, and then pointed at the door with two spread fingers. He nodded, taking up a spot on the opposite side of the frame from her.

"Now," he whispered. She hit the button and the ancient metal slid open.

The smell came first. A look to his right told him Maria could smell it, too. _Ghouls_.

The hall was empty, strange vault echoes making the sounds seem much closer. They headed off in the most likely direction. One turned a corner and rounded on them. Maria shot it without pause.

The noise drew more of them. As half a dozen turned the corner, they were followed by a much more welcome figure.

"Didn't think to check the reactor level?" Cato said, hacking into them with his machete.

"It slipped my mind," Vulpes said. He had just brought one down, only to see another had Maria by the hair. He moved to help her, but she slammed the blade of her weapon backwards between her arm and waist, straight into the monster.

"I'm sure it did," he said. "Which is why I'm going to have you fucking gelded."

"Just see how well that ends for you," Vulpes said, beheading the last of them.

"It certainly couldn't be worse than ending up ass deep in _ghouls_." He was glaring at Vulpes, trying to use his larger frame to intimidate. "If you paid more attention to your surroundings, and less to fucking your little wasteland—"

"Um, excuse me," Maria interrupted.

Vulpes didn't even turn to look at her. "Now is _not_ the time," he said. How could she not see that? "Cato, you're my brother, but—"

"But _what_?" he snapped.

Maria was tugging on his sleeve, he brushed her off, probably too roughly.

"Do you _really_ want to find out?"

"What? Crucify me? Burn me alive? Just fucking try. I'm not some ignorant tribal—"

"Really?" Vulpes snapped. "You could have fucking fooled me!"

"_Will you two shut the fuck up?!" _

They both turned to her. It took all his self control not to slap her across the face. Taking a breath, Vulpes reminded himself that she was ignorant. She didn't know any other way to behave. "Thank you! Fuck." She shook her head. "The ghouls are wearing Vault-tek gear," she said. Neither man commented. "Which _means_ they didn't just wander in here. The inhabitants of this vault, or some of them at least, were turned into ghouls."

"And?" Cato asked, uncaring.

"And a vault this size was made to hold at _lot_ more than a dozen people."

They all stood in silence. Vulpes shook his head. "Well then," he finally said. "Perhaps we should think about leaving?" He thought he could hear distant noises, but it could have been his own imagination spurred on by too little sleep and the idea of a thousand prewar ghouls ripping them to small chunks.

"That… sounds like a very good plan." Cato nodded, glancing back. "Sorry. Temper, all that."

"Understood," Vulpes said, already moving. He couldn't get too angry at Cato, not when he was _right._

* * *

Maria was watching him with caution. Since the argument in the Vault, Cato apparently decided he would be nice to her. "So," he said awkwardly as Vulpes checked maps. "I've been told you knew Ulysses?"

She glanced over, he didn't _seem_ to be goading her on. The question actually appeared to be sincere. Of course, that meant about as much as a pile of sand when you were talking about people who basically lied as a profession. "I guess you could say that," Maria replied slowly, not sure where he was going with this line of discussion. Depending on that, her answer could go a long way to making things even more uncomfortable.

"Funny," he said. "Us knowing some of the same people. Small world, you know, just like they say. I mean, what are the odds—" He was babbling. Maria wondered if Vulpes had asked him to be nice. Probably.

"You do know she _killed_ Ulysses, right?" Vulpes interrupted him with a roll of his eyes. "And he was undercover with the Mojave Express for years, so it would make sense they met- they were coworkers. Of a sort."

Cato looked surprised for a moment, glancing from Vulpes to Maria. "Really?"

"He did try to kill me first," Maria replied quickly. She had no idea if Cato and Ulysses were friends, but didn't want to antagonize Vulpes' brother any more than necessary. They had remained civil… mostly… but she could tell the tension was starting to bother Vulpes.

He looked thoughtful. "Really?" She nodded. "Just you? Huh." There was a long silence before he shrugged. "Well… I was never too fond of the man," Cato said eventually. "I think he was more Fox's friend."

Vulpes made a face. "The man was a damned lunatic," he said. "He put on a good show but… deep down, something was very, _very _wrong with his mind. I should have seen it sooner. Looking back, I don't believe he ever fully recovered after his tribe was destroyed."

"Ulysses would have totally hunted you down," she said. "He went on and on about how you betrayed him. But, well, dead."

"What did happen with that?" Vulpes asked. "I have to admit… I was rather impressed to hear you were able to kill him. I trained the man myself."

"It wasn't easy," she confirmed, which made Vulpes smile, "and you're right, he really was a madman," Maria said, finding herself in complete agreement with Vulpes' assessment. "At first he sounds really smart, like he totally has a plan, knows what he's doing." She thought back to the man in the Divide. "You hear him and think 'wow, this guy totally has his shit together.' He sounds really, really smart."

Vulpes nodded. "And then he continues with a reaction so far beyond the bounds of sanity that it makes your _teeth_ hurt to think about whatever broken reasoning must have led up to the decision."

She nodded, laughing. "Mine was 'I passed through this town a couple times. It seemed nice. I thought about moving there. You delivered a package, not knowing what it was, that caused a bunch of underground bombs to go off. So I'm going to nuke the NCR.'"

Vulpes blinked. "Are you serious? Not that I would weep if the NCR were to disappear but… gods below, that's a bit _much_."

"From _you_ that's saying quite a lot," Cato interjected. Maria was surprised to see Vulpes burst into laughter.

"I am _totally _serious," she said. "My poor little eyebot blew itself up disarming that damned bomb."

"That is complete lunacy," he said. "I am referring to your unnatural feelings of attachment to a chunk of metal, by the way, as much as I am Ulysses' absurd overreaction."

"I liked that eyebot," she said. "Ed-e was fun. He played music when we shot things! The world needs more victory music."

"I'd just like more _victory_," Vulpes said, "the music is completely optional."

* * *

Cato was staring at the two, shaking his head. "Yeah," he said, leaning back on his palms, ancient carpet scratching the skin. He could feel the sun on his bare arms through the missing boards on the windows, this early in the morning it was actually rather nice, before the Mojave became a punishing inferno. "That probably isn't the best plan you've ever had." Fox and the courier exchanged a long glance, in perfect sync. The three were all sitting on the floor of an old house, hiding from the daylight after hiking most of the night.

"I don't see why," Fox said.

"Because, you arrogant _ass_," Cato began, "Aurelius isn't some drooling fiend or ignorant tribal. Maybe he's not as smart as you, but he's not fucking stupid. You think he'll just let you waltz back into Flagstaff?" His brother was pale with rage, one hand clenched into a fist on his lap. "Look, if it was me, sure. I can play dumb. Hell, he's always thought I was dumb. But you? Not a fucking chance."

The entire plan was so mind-bogglingly foolish it made him quite sincerely afraid. Was he actually brain damaged? They both swore up and down that the bullet had caused no damage… but Fox should have known better. Aurelius had known him for more than twenty five years, he _knew_ what Fox did to anyone that crossed him. He would know immediately that Fox returning was just the first step towards his revenge. There wasn't a damned thing any of them could say that would ever convince him otherwise.

And returning with the _courier_, of all people? While it would be an interesting way of keeping people distracted from anything _but_ the courier, it would also draw an absurd amount of attention to them.

"I knew I was rusty but… these are things I should have long since realized." He sighed. "Once I had a plan to work towards, I never went back to rethink the actual merits of that plan. I should have."

He didn't bother to argue.

"I don't think you'll have trouble finding allies," Cato said. "Right now… the Legion is collapsing in on itself. We haven't incorporated a new tribe since Casesar Prima died. What slaves that are left are, quite literally, being worked to death as a result. Birth rates are all but nonexistent, and desertion is up. And believe me, the two are completely linked."

"How so?" The courier's tone was strange- she looked anxious to hear his answer.

Cato shrugged. "We're getting older," he said. "Everyone like us who was raised among the Legion is an adult. Same for the first generation of slaves." He felt embarrassed discussing this among a stranger, but there was no way to separate the courier from Fox. And, looking at her, he suspected that she had already pieced together what he was going to say, or something close to it. "I've got this woman at home," he said. "I mean, I guess she's a slave, but I don't think of her as one. I don't treat her bad or anything. She runs my house when I'm gone. She's…" He shrugged, not sure how to accurately explain it.

"You're in love?" the courier asked.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," he said.

"And what happens when she gets pregnant," she finished. Cato was correct, she had understood. She was a woman; it should have been no surprise. It was probably something she had brought up to Fox herself, just like Sage had brought it up to him a few years ago. Women thought about that sort of thing, he figured, and men generally didn't. Not until a woman pointed it out to him.

"Exactly," he said.

Fox looked confused. "What about it?" he asked.

"A boy, well, he would follow me into the Legion. That's fine. But a girl…" He shrugged. "I would have to leave. Take my woman, take my daughter… just grab what we could and run. I couldn't live with myself if my own child… Gods, Fox, think about it."

Those cold eyes evaluated him. Cato looked away, feeling raw. "How far along is she?" his brother finally asked.

"Five months, almost."

Fox let out a long breath. "Well then," he said after a silence. "That complicates things." He looked over at the courier, they stared at each other for a long time, some mute conversation passing between them. His eyebrows raised, she made a thoughtful noise and looked doubtful.

"I don't know, Vulpes…" she said, sounding nervous. "I never have."

"Had you performed many brain surgeries before me?"

"That's different," she said. "You would have died anyways. There was nothing to lose by trying." He continued to stare at her and she made a groaning noise. "All right, yeah, I probably could. I'd like to at least get a book or something first, though."

"You two care to let me in on what you're talking about?"

"Delivering your baby," the courier replied. "You know, if it comes to that. I'm usually pretty good with medical stuff. I've never done that before, though."

"You underestimate yourself," Fox told her. "Besides, I'm sure you read about it at least once. You read every book within arm's reach."

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "Figured you never know. Cass and all…"

Cato was surprised to hear that. He recognized the name as one of her associates. From what Fox had told him of her morals, he assumed the Courier associated with a better caliber of people. "She was a whore?"

"'Course not," came the reply, sounding horrified. "She had… issues."

"Whores charge," Fox said in a matter-of-fact tone. "That woman gives it away freely to anyone with a drink to share. And I do mean _anyone_. For a time I was seriously contemplating sending someone to charm her with a bottle of gin just to get us closer to Maria."

The courier turned to glare at him. "Excuse me," she snapped. "Watch what you say about my friends. You don't even know them."

"I know enough," he said. "Profile, remember? I had Alerio reporting back to me on your activities for ages."

She looked shocked. "You had someone spying on me?"

"I had several someones spying on you. He was stationed in New Vegas, though, so the bulk of the work fell to him."

The courier's face was twisted in concern. "I never even noticed…" she mumbled, more to herself than anyone else. After a moment she looked up. "Wait, was he young? Dark hair?" Fox nodded. "Did he always wear that same awful hat you did when I met you outside the Tops?"

"It's possible," he said. "The hat was just from one of our safehouses, we keep supplies of clothing for infiltration on hand." Fox stared at her. "What was wrong with it?"

"It was big enough to fit a Supermutant. Or two. Other than that, though, absolutely nothing." The courier looked bothered again. "I can't believe I didn't know he was spying on me. I used to see him _everywhere_."

Cato broke in. "You saw him enough to remember him, what did you _think_ he was doing?"

She shrugged, blushing. "Cass said she thought he must have liked me, since he was always staring and stuff. I tried smiling at him once, since I saw he never drank, but he just looked all freaked out and left the casino." Cato shook his head, trying not to laugh. Just when he had managed to forget she was nearly half his age… "I didn't know he was one of you guys. I just figured he thought I had an ugly smile or something."

"There is nothing wrong with the way you smile," Fox said, sounding like he was fighting to hide annoyance. It wasn't working.

She quickly changed the subject. "So if she has the baby in Flagstaff, and it's a girl… somebody will scoop it up and take it away?"

"Basically," Cato agreed.

"Hm." She looked thoughtful. "Of course I'll help. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. So we would need to sneak your wife out of Flagstaff before she's ready to pop, then?"

"She's not my wife, but yes, that would be the idea plan." Cato didn't like the idea of traveling with a pregnant woman to worry about, but he liked the other options far less.

"If you love her, how come you never got married?"

"Legionaries don't get married," he said with a shrug.

It took all of two seconds before Cato realized he should have glanced at Fox before speaking, since he was screaming _shut the fuck up_ as loud as any human possibly could without opening his mouth. His brother winced visibly as soon as the words were out.

Her mouth opened slightly before snapping shut again, teeth clicking audibly. "Oh," she said after a moment, face turning red. "I didn't know that." The silence was agonizing for a moment before she hopped up. "Excuse me."

Fox glared at him as her feet hit the stairs. "Really?" he asked, the sound of a door slamming on the second floor punctuating the statement.

"You didn't think she would find that out?"

"Not like _that!_" He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. "This is going to become an enormous pain in my ass. I can already tell."

He didn't feel particularly sympathetic. "She sits around whenever we're not walking to read romancenovelsand fucking _love poetry_," Cato said. "In all these years she's been on the radar you've never known her to be involved with a single man. _What did you expect?_ I wouldn't be surprised if she was a virgin."

"She wasn't." He sounded slightly annoyed about it, as though he had wished she was. "Probably not far off, though," was added as an afterthought.

Cato laughed. "You should be _glad _she wasn't, that would have made this even worse."

Fox shrugged. "It isn't what you think. At first, I was relieved. I realize that can be painful and…" He looked somewhat embarrassed. "Well, beyond simply not wanting to _hurt_ her, I strongly suspect that would dampen any enthusiasm I possessed for the act. If I wanted to hurt someone I could just as easily find some slave. Why would I bother with free women?"

Cato was surprised by that confession. While he could certainly understand the sentiment behind it, he never would have expected it from his brother. Fox wasn't exactly a compassionate or gentle man. He couldn't even be called _kind_ by most barometers. He could easily feign sympathy when the job called for it, but it wasn't a quality he possessed under any normal circumstance. But looking back, Cato realized Fox's romantic life, such as it was, seemed to be restricted exclusively to free women.

"I do admit," Fox said, glancing at him from the corner of his eye, "it really enrages me to think of her with anyone else." He made a face, leaning back on his hands. "Gods, I hope it wasn't that imbecile Swank."

"Surprise, surprise." Cato said. "You're better off not even trying to guess that sort of shit. No good will come of it."

He was surprised Fox hadn't run up the stairs after her. "If it was, I might just kill him." He had produced a box of gumdrops from a pocket and was speaking between popping them into his mouth.

"Would that change things?"

"It would change my mood. That's more than enough for me." He sighed, throwing the box away. "And he's always annoyed me. _Ring a ding ding. _What the fuck does that even _mean? _Damned tribals." Standing, he glanced at the stairs. "I suppose it's been long enough for her to cool down. I would prefer not to get shot today."

"How will you manage this?" he asked, curious as to how Fox thought the situation could be corrected.

"I have a plan," he said. "Give me half an hour. She'll adore me more than ever. Or… she'll shoot me."

Shaking his head, Cato turned his attention to oiling his guns. He wasn't entirely surprised when there was a faint sound of ancient bedsprings creaking in protest some time after Fox went upstairs.

As the sun was reaching the peak of the sky, Cato heard boots on the stairs. Fox walked in, looking pleased with himself. "Problem solved," he announced. His smile faded as he dropped onto the ancient couch. Coughing at the dust his disturbance had sent flying, he stood again, brushing himself clean. "Disgusting," Cato heard him mutter to himself.

"Finished begging for forgiveness?"

"As if I would do that," Fox said. "Have we just met?"

"Crying for it, then."

He narrowed his eyes. "If you _ever_ see me crying over… well, _anything,_ it's safe to assume I've gone completely fucking mad." He sat on the floor, back to the couch. "We had a perfectly reasonable discussion."

Fox could lie, very easily, to a great many people.

Cato wasn't one of them.

Looking over, he shook his head and chuckled. "I'm sure it was very reasonable," he said.

* * *

Rolling over, Maria pulled the blankets up. Vulpes was probably just manipulating her, but it was nice to know he actually cared enough to put forth the effort.

That probably wasn't the best way to think of things. Arcade wouldn't approve, that was for sure. Cass would get it… but that wasn't exactly a comforting thought, either.

He had stuck his head around the corner, giving her time to yell to go away before entering the room. Vulpes approached slowly, likely expecting a bullet. "You're angry?"

"No," she said.

"Yes," he said, sitting next to her. "Had I known this was something you wanted I would have found a far more… tactful way to approach the topic."

"It's not that," Maria said. "I don't want that. Really. If you asked me now I'd tell you no." He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. "What, you don't think that's a bit much at this point?" He didn't reply. Maria glanced over, trying to see if she had offended him. It didn't seem so, but he was wearing that flat blank expression she could barely read. His work face. "It just surprised me. And then I have you two staring at me like I'm some… I don't know, silly little girl that will lose her goddamn mind at the drop of a hat. I mean really, give me some credit."

"But you _are _upset."

"Well, yeah," she said. "It was a big surprise. And I have to wonder, what kind of future does that leave? For us?"

His expression did shift then: confusion.

"I don't plan to live out my years as nothing more than Caesar's _whore_, Vulpes!"

His eyes narrowed. "If _anyone_ called you such a thing I would cut out their tongue and hang them by their entrails while they still breathed."

Maria blinked, imagining that. He was being completely serious. "Um… thank you?" she said. "But even if no one says it… well," she sighed, "I'd still feel like it."

"What, then? Do you want jewelry? I can find you something in the next town."

"That's not it, Vulpes."

"Then _what?" _he said, annoyed. "What? If my word isn't enough for you without some... some sort of _ritual_, well, I simply don't understand why you're even sitting beside me in the first place. I honestly cannot understand why you think this is at all important."

"You're joking, right?" She made a face.

"No," Vulpes said, drawing the word out. "It is, as far as _I_ was aware, a religious ritual, yes?" Maria didn't answer. She hadn't thought of it that way. "Which leads to two new problems- the first is that you should know I would _never_ swear any oath in front of some profligate shaman. Never." She made a noise to show her understanding. There was no argument to make; Maria knew if it came down to her or his loyalty to his gods, she would be gone. "And the second is that, last I knew, you subscribed to no religion. You have no gods. You believe in… nothing."

He sounded sad. Maria tried not to roll her eyes, and only mostly succeeded. "Could you possibly make it sound a bit more bleak?"

"It seems very bleak," he said, shrugging. "I can't help that. I don't understand how you can face the world without some hope for… I don't know, contentment in the next life. This world… it's corrupt. It's polluted. It is awful in every way a human can imagine. I have to believe there's something better. If not, why go on?"

"I don't _believe_ in any next life," she reminded him.

"Yes, I am _well_ aware of that," Vulpes said. "I don't _understand_ it, but I am fully aware of your ideas. As misguided as they may be."

"You know, you have a _really_ shitty way of apologizing," she snapped. "Could you possibly go _one fucking day_ without preaching at me?"

Vulpes had been sitting with his hand on her leg up until that point. With her shout he jerked back sharply, nearly shoving her aside. "I'm _sorry,_" he snapped. "Maybe I'd just sleep better knowing when _I_ die, you'll be able to meet me."

She stared, he turned away immediately. "Did you mean that?"

"Well, I certainly didn't mean to _say_ it," Vulpes told her.

_Are you __**really**__ going to fall for that?_ Even if she couldn't tell that she had been sitting next to Mr. Fox, not Vulpes Inculta… well, it hinged on her honestly believing he wanted to spend eternity with her. After being involved for a couple weeks. Highly doubtful. Still, though… moving the conversation towards religion, egging her on until she snapped… It was really pretty clever.

Looking over, she could see his entire posture had changed. More guarded, back straighter, hands folded calmly on his lap. _That_ was the man she knew. He had a worried expression on his face. Her silence must have been making him second-guess everything. He knew she wasn't buying it.

Vulpes had gone through a lot of trouble just to get back in her good graces. That had to count for something, didn't it?

Reaching over, she put a hand on his cheek. "That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

* * *

_Sorry for the delay! New chapter, though, as I promised a couple people yesterday who worried my posting a Skyrim fic would mean I was abandoning this. Nope! Also, speaking of, I've posted a Skyrim fic, with a heavy helping of Morrowind influence. It's called Under Distant Moon and Star. So... if you are an Elder Scrolls fan, please check it out.  
Thanks for being so patient with me, and for all the kind reviews. :)_


	22. My Echo, My Shadow And Me

The three had their heads together, staring at the tiny Pip-boy map.

"There," Cato said, pointing.

Vulpes looked at it and made a thoughtful sound. "Yes," he agreed, considering the possibilities. "There. Quiet. Solid infrastructure. Very little Legion presence. It should be ideal."

Maria looked at the dot. "Phoenix?"

"It was the name in the old world, too," Cato said. "Enough signs and buildings were still standing that said so. Guess no one saw the need to rename it."

She made a small noise, but didn't actually comment.

It had all started over dinner.

"Here's the thing," Cato said. "Aurelius isn't going to challenge you… not if he can avoid it. He knows he isn't popular, he can't be sure anyone will follow him against you."

"I'm not exactly _popular_, either," Vulpes pointed out. The Frumentarii never were. They were spies, cutthroats, assassins. They worked silently, behind the scenes and in the dark. Few were aware of what they actually did, and assumed they did nothing. Those who knew of their activities generally disapproved of the methods. Some, like Cato, overcame that easily. He was a gregarious man, quick to make a joke or laugh- often at his own expense. People could forget that they disapproved of his job when they enjoyed his company. Vulpes refused to apologize for himself or his work, and lacked his half-brother's talent for putting people at ease.

When you needed someone to hide as a bartender in a New Reno brothel, joking with the NCR patrons as he drugged their drinks, you sent Cato. When you needed a target killed in their bed without anyone knowing an intruder had ever been there, you sent Vulpes.

"You're not," Cato agreed. "But Caesar Prima liked you. He respected you, and he favored you, and he always spoke highly of you to others. Everyone knows that, and it's too soon for everyone to forget." He paused. "Why do you think you were exiled instead of killed? Aurelius had to at least maintain the appearance of having you on his side. Saying you were on some special mission at his request did just that."

"We have to reframe the choice," Vulpes said. "It isn't Aurelius or myself. It is Aurelius or the true wishes of Caesar."

"Exactly," Cato said.

"That… that I can do," he said.

So the decision was made. Vulpes would set up a base… not overtly opposing anyone, or really doing _anything_. They would wait and see who came to him.

"Frankly," Cato said, "once I get a chance to talk to our guys, well… word will spread without having to do much of anything. It's pretty safe to say the Frumentarii will pretty much leap at a chance to avoid living under Aurelius. He doesn't make his disrespect a secret." The unsaid commentary between them was that, once they had the Frumentarii, it wouldn't be difficult to create dissatisfaction within the ranks of the other units. Few, after all, realized there were Frumentarii placed even within average contubernium, trained to watch for dissension and treason within the rank and file.

"You were quiet today," Vulpes said to Maria after they had left, traveling in the cool of the night. They would stop at the old Fort first, and move on from there. It would be a good place to rest for a few days... something all of them could use. It would also be a good place for Vulpes and Maria to wait while Cato retrieved his pregnant mistress.

"Thinking," came her response. "I've never heard of a city called Phoenix."

"It isn't large," he said. "And you've never been on this side of the river before. Why would it surprise you?"

"Just… the name," she said. "You know what a phoenix is?"

"I do," he said. "I'm surprised you do, though."

"It was in one of the books I read when we were hiding out at Cottonwood Cove."

She was being unusually quiet. "Your thoughts on that?" he pressed.

"Still working that part out," Maria admitted. "I'll let you know, though."

It was nearing dawn when they came upon a small settlement. People were already up and about, working in the fields. Vulpes watched them while Maria filled their water bottles from the town's pump. Cato had gone to make small talk, and they gladly offered permission when they saw his armor.

She was on the third when he grabbed it from her hand. "Stop," he hissed, too soft for anyone else to hear.

"What?"

"Stand up." She did and he put a hand on her back, speaking close to her ear. A few glanced over with curiosity, no doubt confused by seeing a Legionary and a free woman whispering together with such ease, but Vulpes ignored them. "Look around," he whispered. "Look at them."

Maria did as he asked and gasped. Before saying anything else, she began jabbing fingers at the contraption strapped to her wrist. Vulpes hadn't yet been able to convince her to get rid of the thing, or at least stop wearing it. When it began to make sound, twittering and incessant he was briefly glad for her stubbornness. She showed him the screen. _Rads_, it said, followed by a number. A _very high_ number.

No wonder half the town seemed to be losing hair in chunks and were a uniform shade of gray.

"We need to tell them," she said quietly, already dumping the water.

"Cato," Vulpes called out, across the town. "Cato Hostilius, a moment?"

"Sir," he said automatically, turning on his heel and walking over. His entire posture had changed- Vulpes' frustrating brother was gone, his prudent second in command was walking over.

"Their only water supply is highly irradiated," Vulpes said when he was close enough not to have their discussion overheard. "Maria feels we should tell them. Your thoughts?"

Vulpes already knew what _he_ wanted to do, but was curious about Cato's reaction. "How bad?" he asked her.

"They'll be dead our ghouls in the next year or two if they keep drinking it," she said. "_Bad."_

A couple people had moved closer, curious about the small council being held near their wall. "Hmmm," Cato said, glancing to the side so Vulpes knew he was aware they were being overheard. "You have often told me her judgment in matters of medicine and science is well worth trusting. If Caesar sees fit to save them from that fate, well, I'm sure they would be rather grateful."

Vulpes nodded, glad Cato was thinking on the same lines. "Find me their leader," he said.

Cato returned with a thin bald man, who could have been anywhere from thirty to seventy years old. He looked nervous, glancing from Cato to Vulpes and back again, and then confused when his eyes passed over Maria. "S… sir?"

"We must speak," Vulpes said, leading him over to the pump. "Our companion has discovered an impurity in the water supply here. It isn't safe for you or your people."

Maria stepped forward, holding out her arm. You could see the rad level on the Pip boy marked clearly at 1. When she turned on the water, it began to beep and complain once more as the number jumped, finally calming to fluctuate between 50 and 60. "Water _should_ be zero," she said. "Old world drinks like Nuka-Cola are usually between three and eight. At this level, even a full dose of rad-away would only be enough to compensate for two or three glasses of water."

The man was horrified, but not enough to see past the immediate inconvenience. "This will kill our community," he said.

Vulpes looked around. "Where are your children?" he asked. "A town this size… there should be at least a dozen underfoot right now." The man looked nervous, and shook his head. He may have suspected they wanted to take them for the legion… but it was a pointless threat. "You don't need to answer me. There are no children here. Correct?"

"That's true, sir. At the moment…"

"At the moment your bodies are too poisoned to make new life," he said. "Relocation _may_ kill your community, but staying _will_ kill it without a doubt. If not from the radiation, then from dying off without a new generation to take over." He tried to soften his voice, use the tone reserved for negotiations. "Believe me, we aren't saying you _have_ to move. What you do is your choice. I just felt you needed to know. What good is it to live under the protection of the Legion, if the Legion doesn't bother notifying you of something so dangerous?"

The man stared at him for a long time before nodding, slowly. "Yes, of course," he said. "You're right. You are. I'll make sure the others know." He put his arm out, resting a hand on Vulpes' shoulder. "Thank you," he said. "I could put in a good word with your superiors…"

Cato removed the townsman's hand, gently. Vulpes wasn't sure what he was doing. "Vulpes Inculta is the true Caesar," he said. "He has no superior officers."

"That was a bit melodramatic, wouldn't you say?" Vulpes asked him as they left town. They had to hunt down Maria, who was cornered by two of the local women.

"Yokels love melodramatic, Fox," Cato replied. "You're the one who told me that."

He had a point. "And what happened to you?" he asked Maria.

"Those women pulled me away," she said with a sigh. "They wanted to make sure I was all right."

He glanced over. "All right? They're going bald in chunks and asking about _your_ health?"

She sighed. "You need to remember how the rest of the world sees you." Maria looked annoyed. "They were worried you two were keeping me captive to rape me," she said flatly. "I assured them it wasn't the case. Then they asked if I was _out of my damned mind_. I told them that was a strong possibility, but regardless, I was with you of my own free will and thanks very much for being concerned."

Vulpes didn't argue. He hated the idea that all who saw them would assume she was being held against her will, but it was the reality of the situation. That his first reaction had been annoyance at the townswomen for interfering made him uneasy. He put a hand on her back in what, he hoped, was a somewhat comforting manner.

Cato spoke instead. "I hate that," he said. "Just because some guys do that, everyone assumes we're all like that. Who would want to fuck someone that's crying and clawing for their eyes, anyways? How's that any fun?"

"Yeah, well, it's not like the rest of you ever tried to stop those _some guys_," she said.

* * *

This was turning out better than he could have hoped. For the first time in months he didn't have the worry of his unborn child's future on his shoulders. While he didn't exactly trust the courier, he could read enough of her personality to know she would never harm Sage or their baby. He suspected she would find the very idea offensive.

He told his brother as much when they broke for rest. The woman was sleeping, although not easily. Every once in a while Fox would reach over, brushing her hair back from her forehead, as if he was trying to soothe her nightmares. "Look at you," Cato laughed. "One might think you'd somehow grown a heart." He leaned back, looking at the sky. "We both know _that_ couldn't possibly be true, though."

"Watch yourself," Vulpes said, looking annoyed.

"And there's that grim faced priest we've all grown to… well, not love. What's the other one? Fear. Yeah. Fear."

He laughed then. "You've never been afraid of me," Fox said.

"Not _me_," Cato agreed. "But I never outranked you, so I was safe from being mysteriously poisoned or having my throat cut in my sleep. And I can follow orders without being a complete fucking imbecile, so I was safe from being crucified after a mission." Cato leaned closer, adding "and I'm the only one who remembers you before you were _the great Vulpes Inculta. _Eh, Fox?"

"Now _that_," Fox said, "is nothing to brag about."

Cato did laugh then. "I don't know, it is pretty amusing. Knowing why they kept your name."

"Stop," he said, tone warning.

"It's not so bad."

"I swear to Mars, if you—"

There was a rustling sound near their feet. The courier was awake. "This _has_ to be good." She sat up. "Tell me."

"No," Fox said. "Go back to sleep, woman." Cato grinned at the same time, sliding further from his brother, past his reach.

"Oh, I think she'll enjoy the story," Cato said. "I told Sage and she said it was _adorable_."

"You told one of your _slaves?_"

Cato made a face at that. "She's more than that and you know it, you asshole. You think I'd spend all my caps on dresses and jewelry for a slave?" He rolled his eyes, turning to the courier. "His name was Fox, years ago," he explained. "When our tribe was incorporated into the Legion I got a proper Latin name. His, they decided to keep."

"Why?"

Cato smirked. "Same reason his parents gave him the name." She looked at him expectantly. "His ears. He had the _biggest _ears I'd ever seen. Took him almost twenty years to grow into the things."

"Sleep with one eye open, Cato," Vulpes said.

"They were kind of pointy, too," he added.

"You may not want to sleep at all."

"Come on, brother, its _funny._ They're fine now… well, mostly."

"I am _not_ your brother."

Cato was still laughing. "Close enough," he argued. "_Half _brother, then. I'm the only family you have."

"So if I kill you that story would die at the same time? You're making it very tempting."

The two stared at each other before bursting into laughter. Fox gave him a joking shove and they laughed harder. He probably shouldn't have shouted about Vulpes telling the courier their secret... he had done the same at home ages ago, after all. Sage would _never_ have agreed to naming the child Vulpes if it were a boy if she hadn't known he was Cato's brother.

_Is this what you would have wanted, father?_ Cato briefly thought. He received no answer. It didn't matter, though. This was, in all likelihood better than they would have managed if they stayed within their tribe. That had to count for something.

* * *

"Arcade?" Cassidy sat up in bed, peering into the darkness at a tall shadow in the doorway. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," he said, voice quiet and strained. "Sorry to sneak up on you like this. I've got a pretty big problem."

She had been ready to make a joke, but hearing his tone she reached over, clicking on the bedside lamp instead. Arcade _seemed_ like a nervous man to people who didn't know him, but really, that was just his act. He used it to hide his secrets and his past... but Cass _knew_ his secrets and his past. In truth, with his friends he was as steady as they came, and right now he sounded ready to jump from his own skin. "Sit down," she told him. "What's going on?"

"I got another letter today," he said. She didn't need to ask who it came from.

"All right," she said, shrugging. While it was _disturbing_ to read about their friend slowly turning into a madwoman, especially when reading between the lines made it fairly clear she was far more than simply _friends_ with the Legionary, it was hardly 'wake you up in the middle of the night' stuff. It wasn't _news_, after all. "And?"

"_And_," he said, "I had a couple privates from the NCR stop by the clinic today, maybe an hour or two later, asking if I could swing by their offices when I get a moment. I asked why, one said '_about some letter they read',_ and the other smacked him on the head and said that should have been a secret."

"Oh…" Well, that certainly _was_ wake you up in the night stuff. "So, what now?"

"I skipped the meeting, _obviously_," he said. "So… I'm guessing I should probably lay low for a bit. I wanted to see if you had a caravan headed out any time soon?"

"I do now," she said, before kicking off the blankets.

"Jesus, Cass," Arcade said, turning his head when he realized she was wearing only underwear.

Cassidy snorted. "Aren't you a doctor?" she said, laughing as she pulled on her pants. "Get over it." Buttoning a shirt up, she pocketed her caps and strapped a pistol to her hip. "Heading East sound good? I think it's way past time for us to ask Little Miss Legion what the fuck's going on in that damaged head of hers."

* * *

_Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!  
And if you're following my Elder Scrolls Skyrim/Morrowind fic, I should have a new chapter of that up in a day or two as well. (so much for my alternate weeks plan...)_


	23. Did you miss me?

"I just knew this would happen. I _knew_ she would be the death of me."

Cass rolled her eyes. "You're dead then? You complain an awful lot for a dead man."

Arcade had been on edge from the moment they crossed the river. Cass had assured him, more than once, that they were perfectly safe, but he didn't believe her. She wasn't _comfortable_ in Legion lands, not by a long shot, but she had been a caravan driver for more than ten years. As much as she hated them, she knew how things worked. The Legion wouldn't cut off trade to their settlements by attacking caravans without reason. Keep your nose clean and you're in no more danger doing business in their lands than you would be with the NCR… so long as your goods were legal. Less danger, really, if you considered the almost complete lack of raiders and thugs on the roads.

She loaded the wagon down with extra clothes, armor, and some older weapons she knew no one would miss. Plenty to trade, plenty to keep them looking legitimate. And not a single item that would bring on the sober fist of the Legion. No chems, no supplies to _make_ chems, she hadn't even brought any alcohol. Although the more Arcade whined, the more she wished she had. Whiskey could pass for Nuka, as long as someone was out of smelling distance.

"Might as well be dead," Arcade said. "I can't believe you're not upset. I had a life there, I had a job. Now what do I have?"

"Friendship?" she asked, laughing at the idea. "And an escape from a job you complained about night and day?"

"Fuck you."

Cass snorted. "Now I don't think _either_ of us would enjoy that. You wouldn't know what to do with me if you tried."

"I'm a doctor, you know. I'm familiar with female anatomy," he said. "I just don't want to... well, get anywhere near any of it. Ever."

They had started off with the old Legion camp at Cottonwood Cove. The NCR had picked through the place, but Cass hoped they might see something more, just by virtue of knowing Maria. Although she couldn't see any sign of where they had gone, it was clear they had passed through- and stayed for some time, if she wasn't mistaken. A small storage room was what Arcade called, a "Maria nest." Piles of blankets all over the bed despite the heat, books stacked on either side. A bottle still half-full of Sunset Sarsaparilla still resting nearby. One book was on the bed, bookmark still in place.

"This can't be good," Arcade had said, flipping to that page.

Cassidy couldn't make out a word of it from the text.

"Well, for one, she's clearly trying to learn _Latin_. For another, well, it's…" he shook his head. "It's a famous poem. Well… famous as far as ancient Latin love poetry goes." He passed the book over, there were notes in the margin.

_I hate and I love. Why... Why am I? do I?  
Fortasse requiris? **remember to ask Vulpes what that means!**  
I don't know, but I feel it and I am crucified._

He tossed the book down. "That's _her_ translation. In the margins. What she managed to get done, she did right...ish. Thought I really don't want to know why, of all the words she could pick for _tortured_ she chose that one."

Cass shook her head. "I guess she's going native. How sweet, learning his culture." She wasn't amused, either.

"How long before he's got her wearing a red X?" Arcade said.

"She'd die first," Cass said, not doubting that. "All the more reason to hurry, I guess."

Which they did, fortunately finding a spot dry enough to get the brahmin across the river.

Cass decided the only thing more annoying than attempting to trace another person's steps without knowing where they were actually going, was doing just that while also realizing your target was both unpredictable and lousy at directions. For a courier you would assume the ability to read a map and plot a course was, well, mandatory. Just after being able to read the address on the package and having the ability to walk. Maria had managed without that skill, though.

Frankly, she wondered why they were at all shocked when Maria failed to demonstrate the basic skills of being a courier. All they knew of her career was that it ended with a bullet in her head. That wasn't a ringing endorsement of skills. Just an endorsement of her ability to take a bullet. That, Cass knew from personal experience after traveling with the woman, was second to none.

Cass and Arcade didn't have a Pip-boy with them. But they did have maps. _Caravaner_ maps, which were the probably even more accurate than Maria's fancy pre-war toy... what with not being hundreds of years old. When she saw an old vault noted, she pulled hard on the reins to detour them.

"You _really_ think he let her go crawling through a vault?" Arcade asked.

She sighed. Arcade knew Maria had left on her own, but still spoke as though she was a captive. "Let? I think he wouldn't be able to stop her," she said. "And I think if he _is_ fucking her, he would have enough smarts to at least try and keep her happy." She flicked the old ropes, sending the brahmin moving faster. "Besides, have you ever _seen_ her when she gets near something like that. I can tell you just what happened. Her eyes went all big and she probably started doing that thing where she waves her hands around really fast. Hell, I bet she even started jumping up and down. I've seen it happen. I don't care how skinny you are, a woman jumps around like that, things are going to bounce. And that's about when guys just nod and do whatever you want." She looked over and laughed. "Present company excluded."

The vault had been a waste of time after all. She was there, no doubt of that. The computer had been hacked, there was an empty gumdrop box on the ground that was too clean to be old, and recent footprints. But the blood on the door and the sound of ghouls made them think twice about investigating any further.

Continuing on, they were just passing a small recently-abandoned settlement when a group of Legionaries approached, just three men. Arcade had been near-hyperventilating as he saw them up the road. "Keep your damn mouth shut," Cass hissed as one of the men approached.

"Trader?" he called.

"Sure am!" she replied as cheerfully as possible, pinching Arcade's leg when he opened his mouth. "What you guys lookin' for?"

"Drinks, if you got any," he said. "That next town's well is contaminated. We just bumped into the old mayor, setting up shop down the road. Said a woman with a… an electronic _thing _on her arm told them it was radiation. Not inclined to test if she was right or not."

A woman with an electronic thing on her arm. Well, who could that be… She met Arcade's eyes, he was having similar thoughts. Cass tried not to show how pleased that comment made her. That would explain why the town was abandoned. But, more importantly, it also told her they were on the right track.

"No alcohol," another broke in to add.

"Don't have any of that," Cass said quickly. "I follow the law. I got, hm," she turned, digging through a crate. "Nuka cola, some water, and some bottled coffee. Brewed it myself."

"Not from the water back there, right?" one asked, laughing. He was pale, with freckles across his cheeks and bright orange hair.

"No, sir," she said. "That's made from clean New Vegas water."

"New Vegas?" they exchanged a glance. "You came a long way for some trading."

"Lower taxes here," she said. "Safer roads. Only thing worse than getting robbed by the NCR taxman is getting robbed by raiders. Figured it was a matter of time before they did worse to me than take my stuff and my caps."

It was the right answer. The man who appeared to be their leader, or at least the oldest, nodded, looking pleased.

"Not for long," the redhead said under his breath. His friend snickered.

_"Tacenda!"_ the leader snapped. Both men behind him stood to attention.

"Yes, Decanus," the chatty one said.

WIthout any further conversation, he thanked her, paid for their drinks, and left.

"Legion coin," she muttered, looking at the gold disk. "Great."

Arcade shushed her. She realized he was trying to listen in on the men as they walked away. They were speaking loudly, but she couldn't follow the conversation. It was too much a mix of English and Latin, leaning heavily towards the latter.

Cass did catch one word she knew: _Vulpes_.

"Well," Arcade said, when they were out of earshot. "The townsfolk mentioned that a man calling himself the _true_ Caesar passed by. I'm guessing with Maria and her Pip-boy. They're arguing over if there will be civil war or not. And which side they'll take."

"They aren't sure?" she asked, setting the brahmin in motion once more.

"Apparently not," he said. "Good for Maria and her friend. Not so good for anyone else."

* * *

Fox was pacing back and forth. "You're _sure_ he'll be fine?" he asked, not for the first time.

"I'm sure, now get out of my light," Maria replied. She was sitting in the dirt next to Cato. They had run into a small group of raiders, before the three knew what was going on, he had taken two shotgun shells right to the chest.

Fox, since then, had been alternating between loudly asking her for reassurance that he would be fine, and violently cursing Aurelius for letting things go so far downhill that raiders operated openly in Legion territory. If he hadn't felt like he had swallowed a bowl of broken glass and acid, Cato would probably have been moved by the entire thing. This was as close as he had ever seen his brother get to actually displaying affection.

Cato, for his part, alternated between groaning as she picked out bits of lead and giving Maria specific and detailed instructions regarding the future welfare of a blonde woman they could find in Flagstaff. He suspected that he would be rather embarrassed over some of what he said if he did recover, but had seen enough chest shots in his day to know recovery was a very unlikely possibility. He wouldn't live to be embarrassed over saying things like _tell her I loved her from the second I saw her _and_ tell her she was the very last thing I thought of._

"See," she mumbled, injecting him with a stimpack, "this is the sort of thing that only worries people who belong to cults that hate medicine. Us normal folks, we use a couple chems and go about our day." Rocking back on her heels, she cocked her head to the side. "This… well, it isn't _nothing,_ but it shouldn't be fatal." Fox had paced further away. "But I'll tell you something," she went on, voice too low for Vulpes to hear. "Since we have this chance to chat. If I ever have good reason to question your loyalty to Vulpes… well, next time you get hurt, you _won't_ get better." She picked up another stimpack and continued working. "And he will never_ ever_ know it was me. It'll be really sad. I might even cry about it. We clear?" She was wiping the blood off him, examining the wound that had already begun to knit itself closed. From the expression on her face, an observer would have thought she was telling him he would be just fine.

He couldn't help but think it was exactly the sort of thing his brother would have done.

"Yeah," Cato said, meeting her eyes. The expression was almost unfamiliar at this point. It was the look she had when they first met in the vault. Those were the eyes that had stared at him from the other side of a pistol: cold and uncaring. There was no doubt in his mind she was serious. Maria might not get away with it, but she would try.

_This _was the woman who killed every man in the NCR prison. _This _was the one who had become a scary story raiders used to scare new recruits. Since meeting her, Cato had a great deal of trouble reconciling the stories of a cold blooded killer with the seemingly harmless young woman he was slowly getting to know. He laughed slightly, the sound cut off by a groan of pain. "I understand. Damn, I may even start to like you."

"Wouldn't that be strange," she replied. "All right, you're done."

"Done?" he asked.

She must have noticed the worry in his voice. "_Healed_. You're fine."

"Really?"

"Really," she repeated.

He reached down, fingers gently brushing the line in his chest. Sitting up, Cato stretched. "Just so you know," he said, "I ever start to question _your_ loyalty, well, I'll just shoot you. And I don't give a fuck if he knows it was me or not."

She laughed at that, apparently undisturbed by the idea. "Deal," Maria said. "You may want to go for decapitation, though. Shooting me doesn't work. It's been tried."

"I do _not_ believe those rumors," Cato said.

"Rumors?" Maria brushed her hair aside before turning to face him. Tapping a finger against one of the scars on her head she asked "what _rumors_? That's just truth." Vulpes ran over when he heard them laughing. "Told you," Maria said. "You need to have some faith in me."

Cato winced at the phrasing, even though he knew full well that the words carried no deeper meaning.

"I assure you," Fox said, kneeling in front of her, "my faith in you is surpassed only by my faith in the gods."

It was difficult not to roll his eyes. So he didn't bother resisting the urge.

* * *

These _fueling stations_ were really ideal places to camp, Vulpes decided. Shaded from the sun, only one door, which made them very easily defensible, and close to the road.

No wonder they were always filled with raiders and junkies when you crossed the river into profligate lands.

"I was worried," he admitted, glancing over at Cato. It was his watch, but he could see his brother wasn't yet asleep.

"I noticed." He stretched slightly. "Still a bit sore but… damn, I really thought that was it."

Vulpes nodded. He had thought the same. Chest wounds were not something to be taken lightly. Especially not when the victim is coughing out blood, as Cato had been. Just thinking about it made his stomach knot up all over again. "You've been a good brother to me," he said. "I want you to know that."

"Not always," Cato said.

"Please, not this again," Vulpes replied. "I really don't want to _think_ about those years, much less discuss them. They're better forgotten."

"You never think about our father?"

"No, not really," Vulpes said. Cato was nearly a teenager when the Legion came for their tribe. It seemed he forgot how much younger Vulpes had been. The only reason he could even remember what their father _looked_ like was because Cato bore an almost identical face.

In truth, _Caesar_ had been more of a father to him. That wasn't really saying much, either, though.

"Your mother?"

"_No,"_ he snapped, probably too quickly. "Don't mention her again. _Please_."

Maria stirred, grumbling. He had spoken too loudly.

Vulpes silently prayed she would stay asleep. Cato would drop the subject when it was clear Vulpes wouldn't discuss it further. _She_ wouldn't.

Thankfully she didn't seem inclined to wake.

Cato, true to form, changed the subject. "You weren't joking when you said the courier knew her way around an injury," he said.

"I wasn't," Vulpes agreed. "Although..."

"What?"

"I really would appreciate you not calling her that."

"Courier? It's what she is."

Vulpes rolled his eyes. "It's what she _was_. Nearly five years ago at this point. This was pointed out to me, _at length. _I have heard in great detail how bothersome it is to be referred to as nothing but your former job title, particularly when said job only served to get you shot. I've had it explained to me numerous times. I'm nearly able to repeat her ranting verbatim at this point." He shoved his hair back, wiping the mid-day sweat away from his brow with a red and white patterned rag he had found behind the old sales clerk's counter. "Is there any way you could to begin using her name, if only for my sanity?"

"I suppose," Cato said. "You'll owe me, though."

Vulpes stared at him. "I'll _owe_ you? Just for asking you to please stop calling Maria courier since one of these days she's likely to pull a gun on you for it?"

"Yep," Cato said, rolling to his side. "Maybe I just like having something to dangle over your head for once?" He laughed and closed his eyes, ending the conversation.

It was near the end of his watch when he saw a wagon on the road. Peering through the filthy window, he stood. "What?" a drowsy voice asked. Maria was stretching, just opening her eyes. It was rare he had to wake her when it was her watch. She always seemed to know.

"Trader," he said.

"Let me get my boots on," she mumbled, sitting up.

"They'll be gone by then," he said. "Just keep a watch out, I'll go."

"You're a shitty bargainer," she said. "And we need stuff you won't buy." He stared at her. "Stimpacks. Med-X. Bandages if they have them. Clean rags."

"Rags?"

She stared at him, raising her eyebrow but not answering. "Yeah, let me get my boots on."

"Sit," he said. "Cato's out cold. I don't want to leave him alone like that." She shrugged, checking to make sure her gun was loaded before fishing a hairbrush from her bag.

"Suit yourself."

Vulpes was halfway to the wagon before he realized what she needed rags for. "_Damn,_" he mumbled, realizing this transaction would be considerably more uncomfortable than he had anticipated. The drugs were bad enough, but… well, he had to assume it was a common request, and the trader would know what it was for. Which would make a man in full Legion uniform purchasing them all the stranger. Someone on the caravan might fancy himself a hero, rush off to rescue the poor captured woman… who was likely to put a bullet between his eyes as thanks.

Nothing to be done about it now, though.

"Afternoon!" he called, waving so they would see him. The wagon began slowing to a halt. Walking over, Vulpes, checked, confirming he had caps with him. Traders didn't like getting Legion coin if they could help it. They would never _say_ that, of course, but he could read it in their faces. "I'm looking to buy some supplies."

"What do you nee…" the woman trailed off, words transforming into a squeaking noise. Vulpes was about to reassure her that he had no interest in anything beyond exchanging money for goods, but then he took a closer look. Pale, freckled skin, and wide, shocked eyes were shaded under the brim of an old hat… the kind Maria called a cowboy hat. Ginger hair poked out from underneath. The tall, slim man to her side looked slightly less surprised. Still rather surprised, just not enough for his mouth to hang open comically.

"Miss Cassidy?" he said. The woman nodded slowly. "Then that must be Mr… Gannon, yes?" He made a small sound of agreement. "Well then." Pushing his hair back, Vulpes couldn't help but notice both of their eyes follow his hand and pause over the scar. "I would say I'm surprised… but this is exactly the sort of thing I've come to expect lately. You might as well follow me." Turning, he walked back without confirming that they followed. He knew they would. "She's just waking up," he called over his shoulder. "I'm sure Maria will be happy to share a cup or two of the unholy nightmare she passes off for coffee with you."

_If I am the chosen of Mars_, he thought, walking back inside, _I suspect it's only for amusement value._

* * *

_A/N: Thanks so much to all my readers and especially my reviewers! And go look at this!  
goo -dot- gl -slash- lWzF2  
GO! NOW! batwingscat on Tumblr drew kid!Vulpes and it is so cute I could scream. OK, I admit, I totally did scream. _


	24. Leader Of The Pack

Following the man, Cass tried to determine what Maria saw in him. It was pointless, all she could tell from this angle was that he did, in fact, live up to her drunken nickname of _Legionary Hot Butt_. He could also be called _Legionary Great Legs_ or _Legionary Clearly Very Fucking Pissed Off. _ It was the last one that kept her on guard.

Leaving the wagon just outside the old building, she and Arcade silently grabbed the most valuable items before following him inside.

"Did you get my stuff?" a familiar voice called as the door opened. Maria's back was to them, but Cass knew it was her immediately. Hair brushed and neatly braided, it revealed a hint of the T-shaped scar that went along her hairline and down her spine. She never did find out where _that_ one came from. Maria wouldn't talk about it.

A mug of overbrewed coffee sat near her, the slightly charred smell wafting across the room unpleasantly. When the door opened she set an old magazine aside, page falling open to reveal a diagram of what appeared to be the bones of a leg. The entire thing was… well, not _domestic_. This was obviously a campsite, and a rough one at that. But comfortable. She was completely at ease in her surroundings. "Don't slam the door," she added, turning slightly to watch him walking across the room. "You'll wake your brother."

Looking around, Cass saw a man towards the far wall, sprawled out on an old mattress. The hair on his head was dark brown, only starting to gray at the temples, but the hair on his uncovered chest was closer to salt and pepper. There was a patch of bare skin that stood out, mostly for the drying blood matting the hair around it. That would probably explain why Maria wanted him to stay asleep.

"Not… exactly," he replied. "We have company." He disappeared towards the back of the room for a moment, before returning and sitting down, clearly not interested in speaking further.

"Vulpes!" she sounded annoyed. "We _need_ stimpacks. You saw how hurt Cato was! What if we run out? And those rags… well, if some don't appear in my pack in the next two or three days, I _will_ start ripping your clothes apart for some. I don't plan on walking around leaving a trail of…" she went silent. "Company?"

_Well_, Cass thought,_ at least we have warning of her PMS._

He gestured behind her. Maria turned her head before several things happened in quick succession. She made a loud shrieking noise, she jumped to her feet, she launched herself in the general direction Cass and Arcade were standing, and then she burst into tears.

"They're going to think I'm holding you _captive_," the Legionary grumbled to himself.

"Oh wow, I can't believe this! I never thought I'd see you again! I can't believe…" she was rambling as she hugged them. "You changed your hair!" she announced looking at Arcade. "It looks so good!" She shared a glance with him over Maria's head. _Wait for it_, he mouthed. "Wait…" Maria paused, stepping back from them. "What are you doing here?"

"Took you long enough to ask," Cass said.

"Faster than usual," the Legionary interjected from across the room. He was watching dispassionately, leaning back on his palms. He offered a small smile; it stopped well below his eyes. The effect was slightly chilling, and she suspected that had been intentional. "Although I'm fairly curious about that myself." Maria turned, pointing to him and making a noise that cut off his words. The Legionary laughed, holding both his hands as he sat up straight, smiling at her- a real smile this time. "I am on my best behavior," he said.

"What's going on?" Maria asked, sitting back down and gesturing for them to join her.

Cass and Arcade exchanged a quick glance. She wasn't sure if he wanted to tell her, at least, not in front of the legionary. He didn't seem inclined to leave, though. He was sitting with a hand resting on Maria's leg possessively.

"Oh, things were getting quiet in Freeside," he said. "Decided a bit of a road trip was in order. Funny thing, bumping into you here." No one laughed. "All right," he sighed. "The NCR is… less than thrilled."

"I figured that," she said. "What with the snipers and the assassins and the trying to kill me in a motel room thing. If it wasn't for Vulpes I probably would have died that night." He was about to argue when she cut him off. "And don't argue. You know I wouldn't have let them take me alive."

"Seeing as how he's the only reason they were after you-" Maria sucked in a breath before glaring at her. Cass let the words trail off, realizing it would likely be a bad plan to say she should have left the legionary for dead when he was sitting right there. "Well, you get my point."

Arcade broke in, eager to change the subject. "The problem right now is… well, while I'm thrilled you made sure we knew you weren't dead or, well, enslaved..." he glanced at Vulpes, adding "no offense."

"None taken," the man replied calmly. "It's a rational fear, all things considered."

"Right," Arcade went on. "While I'm happy about that, I would say sending letters via Mojave Express was probably not the wisest plan. Since… well, the NCR got one. Or more than one."

"Fuck," Maria mumbled.

She looked embarrassed. There was no doubt, one of her 'I never thought of that' speeches being queued up as they sat there.

It was the legionary who broke the silence, though. "You did _what_?" he said, staring at her.

"I—"

"Outside," was all he said, cutting her off and glaring with rage before storming out the door, letting it slam behind him.

"Shit," she mumbled. Cassidy and Arcade were staring at her. "He's not going to kill me or anything," she said, standing. "I… um… I'll be right back."

Scurrying past them, she let the door slam in her rush.

"Huh," Arcade said. "This should be interesting."

His words were met with a grumbling sound from across the room. "What's going on?" asked a gruff voice. "Hey, who are you two?" The man shuffled towards them, looking tired. "Wait, nevermind, I recognize you. Come to haul your girl back to New Vegas?"

"Not… exactly," Cass said, watching him with caution. She was trying to keep an eye on Maria outside, but having a now-conscious man, presumably _also_ a member of the Legion, wandering around didn't make that easy.

"Smart. Doubt she'd go." He looked out the window and made a sound of surprise. "I guess I missed something good." Introducing himself as Cato, he offered a hand to Arcade who accepted it after an uncomfortable pause. There was another pause while he looked at her, probably deciding how to react to a woman. Annoyed, she stuck her arm out at him, other hand on her hip. Eventually the man shrugged, shaking Cass' hand as well.

"You could say that…" Arcade said. Cass was watching outside to see Maria standing, head down, as the man ranted. "You're his… brother?"

He grumbled. "Fucking tell the world, Fox." There was a sigh followed by a humorless laugh. "Doesn't matter much now. We're traitors anyways. Yeah. I've got the good fortune to be both his older brother and his subordinate. Lucky, lucky me."

"She said it, not him," Cass said.

"Course she did," he replied. "You ladies love to gossip. I know how that works." He watched out the window, shaking his head. "She must have fucked up pretty good," he said. "He isn't really the ranting and screaming sort."

"Just so you know," Cassidy said, "he lays a hand on her, he's dead." She propped her gun on the windowsill to let him know she was serious.

"Don't worry," the man replied, arms folded. He clearly either didn't think she would shoot, or didn't care if she did. "She hits him first, he's going to hit back. Other than that, though, he wouldn't." He laughed. "See… she started crying, and he'll cave in a second or two." He was still laughing. "And there he goes. Oh brother, you are well and truly fucked, aren't you?" Turning, he looked over at them. "I almost feel bad for him. Well, I would if it was anyone _but_ him. He deserves to suffer, though."

"I'm glad I'm an only child," Cass mused aloud. Wanting your sibling to suffer seemed cruel, even by legion standards. Well... maybe not by _Legion_ standards. Just by any normal person's standards.

"What?" the man said defensively. "It's not like I want him _scourged_ again or anything."

_Again?_ What kind of fucking life did they lead? Cass knew she was making a face. At this point, she didn't particularly care.

"I just think a little perspective could do him some good. Remind him he's as human as the rest of us. Thirty years of his smug ass pretending otherwise gets a bit annoying." He shrugged. "And she isn't so bad. She threatened to kill me. Meant every word, too. I respect that."

"Charming," Arcade mumbled.

"Nah, he's the charming one. I'm the pretty one. Can't you tell?"

* * *

Maria followed Vulpes outside, dragging her feet in the dust. She didn't want to have this discussion… or argument, which was what it was looking like he wanted.

"Anything to say for yourself?" he asked.

"I'm really sorry," she said, actually meaning it as the words came out. "I swear, it seemed like a—"

"No," he snapped, cutting her off. "You aren't going to try that with me. Don't insult me by thinking I'll fall for it. It did _not_ seem like a good idea at the time. You know it, I know it. If it had seemed a good idea, you wouldn't have kept this so quiet, would you? You wouldn't have snuck off when I wasn't looking. We both know it was a horrible idea. I just want to know what compelled you to be _so damned stupid!?"_

She felt very small. Very small and, as he said, very stupid. "I'm sorry," Maria repeated again.

"Sorry?" he was shouting, towering over her. "You know, you _know for a fact, _that half the couriers with Mojave Express are spies! _You've met them!_ You know this, and you still decide to announce where we are, what we're doing, and where we're going. Did you _want_ the NCR to find you? Did you want Aurelius to find me? What exactly were you thinking? Were you even thinking _at all_?" She opened her mouth and he waved his hand. "Don't fucking apologize again. I don't want to hear it. This could have ended up getting us both killed!"

Swallowing, Maria tried to fight back crying. "I don't know what to say," she told him. "It was stupid. I shouldn't have done it."

"So why did you?"

"I don't know," she said. "It's just… I guess, I missed them. I missed home." She wouldn't look at him. It was impossible to hide her crying, and Maria knew any more weakness would just give him something else to attack. "Probably shouldn't even call it that anymore," she said. "I know I'm never going to see it again."

He didn't reply. Eventually Maria turned to face him. His expression had fallen. "And that's my fault," Vulpes said, no longer yelling, after a long silence.

"I didn't say that!" Maria exclaimed quickly. "Don't put words in my mouth. I'd _never_ say that."

"I know you didn't say that," he replied. "I did." His hand went out and she flinched, stepping back. "What?" he looked confused before stepping away from her. "Wait… gods, you didn't think I was about to hit you? Did you?" She didn't reply and he moved closer again. Maria could see a red bit of cloth in his hand. Slowly he raised it, wiping her face. "I'm angry with you," he said, voice calm. "I'm _very_ angry. However, I would _hope_ you know me well enough at this point to realize I wouldn't _attack_ you. I'm not an animal." He paused, adding "and you aren't exactly the type of person to get hit without retaliating, are you?" She had to admit, Vulpes was right about that. "If I hit you, I would likely feel very guilty very quickly, followed by feeling excruciating pain as you attacked me with anything you could grab. I would certainly prefer not to have my brother watch as a woman beats me bloody with a cactus she ripped from the dirt. There's really only so much shame one man can take in a day."

"I _am_ sorry," she said.

"I know." He sighed. "I certainly can't _kill_ you, so I suppose you'll have to let me continue to be angry for a while longer."

"So you're angry enough to kill me," she said. "But you're not going to kill me."

"You see, that is _exactly why_ I'm so upset," he said. "You're far too intelligent for such foolish behavior. You have figured everything out precisely."

"And now?"

"And now?" He shrugged. "And now I'm angry. Eventually I'll stop being angry. I am reminding myself that saving my life is the only reason you're here, so far from home. It makes my rage... surprisingly manageable."

Vulpes seemed very calm, but she suspected it was just for show. Taking a breath, Maria glanced over at him. "Did you want me to leave?"

"Leave?" he repeated. "Do you mean go back inside or… _leave?_" When she didn't answer he narrowed his eyes. "Ts that how things are going to be? The moment I disagree with something you do, you vanish? I'm not about to let you manipulate me like that, _Courier._ I'm the chosen of Mars, not one of your fawning NCR sycophants."

He was as mad as before, maybe worse. "Wait, _what_?" Maria tried to figure out what went wrong. "What the fuck, Vulpes?" She was shouting back at him. "I'm not trying to… manipulate you. And if I _was_, I sure wouldn't _announce_ it first like some kind of idiot. I figured if you were that mad… maybe you just didn't want me around anymore."

He opened his mouth for a moment, arm up to gesture, before letting his hands fall. Shoulders sinking, Vulpes frowned. "Oh," he said after a moment. "I just—"

"You just assumed I was just trying to con you," she interrupted. "Since that's what you would do." She sighed, sitting in the dirt. "You should try not being a _spy_ every once in a while. Being a person might work out better."

He stared at her for a moment before sitting down, long legs tucked neatly under himself. "I might have gone a bit far," he said.

"Really?" she replied. "You don't say, _chosen of Mars._" Maria couldn't stop from making a face at him. "Don't try that shit with me. Save it for your Legion boys. I _know_ you're not perfect." For a moment he looked offended. "You _snore_, for one thing."

"I do not."

"You do," Maria insisted. "Why do you think I'm always trying to sleep against your back? It's so you can't roll over and have to stay on your damned side. If you end up on your back it sounds like I'm lying next to a chainsaw."

"Are we going to start blaming each other for things we do while unconscious?" he said. "Since I could ask if you have any idea how many times I've had to hold your wrists so you don't claw your own skin off in your sleep. It's happened at least once or twice a week for _months_."

Maria wasn't able to answer. Ever since she had woken up in the Sierra Madre casino, stripped of her own clothes and weapons, trapped by an explosive slave collar, she'd had nightmares. It was rare for her to remember them, though. Usually she only knew they happened because she would wake up bloody from her sleepy attempts to remove the collar that only existed in her memories.

She had thought the dreams stopped. That was why she wasn't waking up with her neck battered and gored anymore. Apparently not, though.

"I didn't know it was still happening," she said.

He looked surprised. "I didn't even know you knew about it at all," Vulpes said. "Do you know why?"

She nodded. "It's a long story. Not my best moment. If you really want to know I'll tell you another time." Vulpes looked dubious. He could probably tell she wanted to go over the story as much as she wanted him to start yelling again. Maybe less. "You really think I could wake up bloody over and over and not notice?" Looking back, Maria realized he must have been doing it for months. At least since she had been shot… if not longer. Possibly even as far back as when he had finally started calling her by her name. She'd never woken with bruised wrists, or knowing anything had happened. He must have been careful not to hurt her, or wake her. For a time, waking up with him holding her by the arms probably would have given her a _very _different idea of what was happening and sent her into a murderous fit.

"What?" he asked. Maria was staring at him.

"I'm just surprised."

"Well, your safety _is_ my responsibility while I'm on watch," was what Vulpes finally said, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. "I... I don't like seeing you hurt."

Maria realized she could easily return to New Vegas now. Cass and Arcade could lie, say she was a captive, tell them they helped her escape. People would believe it. It would be so easy. And if she had figured that out, so had he. Probably much sooner. Was he saying this to manipulate her into staying? She didn't think so.

"Are you still thinking about going?" he asked.

"Guess I'm going to Phoenix," was what she said.

* * *

"There goes my lunch," Arcade said, turning away from the window.

"We haven't _had_ lunch," Cass pointed out. He noticed she stepped away as well, though.

They had been watching Maria from the window. At first, she had just stood, almost cowering as the Legionary ranted. He couldn't hear what the man was saying, not clearly at least, but his anger was obvious enough. Obvious and, Arcade had to admit, justified.

Whatever he was saying must have gotten to her, since she was crying before long. "He'll cave," the legionary's brother had said. He was watching with them, offering occasional commentary. The man was surprisingly affable. Arcade knew the Legion only by report and reputation. Actually meeting a member was strange. He had expected a more overt sort of evil, especially from someone so clearly in his forties. In terms of the Legion, that was ancient. To live that long would have made him a fairly high ranking individual.

It turned out he was right. Inculta did cave, or seemed to from what they could see. Almost as soon as Maria began crying his entire posture changed. He even dried her tears, for God's sake. It would have been almost sweet, had he not been wearing Legion armor, and had they not _both_ started yelling only a minute later. That passed quickly, though. Now they were… well, for lack of a better term, making out.

"Get a room or get naked!" Cass shouted from the doorway. When Maria pried herself off the man, standing up and sheepishly smoothing her hair, Cassidy laughed. "Aw, and here I was thinking I'd finally find out of the legion circumcises."

"Of course not," Inculta's brother spoke up, sounding horrified. "And you people call _us_ barbaric?" Cass didn't reply and he laughed, hand dropping to his belt. "Why, you really want to see that badly?"

Bluff called, she shook her head quickly. "I'll take your word."

"Suit yourself," he said, nodding to his brother as the man entered, a smug look on his face. It seemed rather at home on his features. Arcade suspected _smug_ was likely his default expression.

"I assume you'll want to speak with her alone," he said, dropping himself into an old chair. "It seems unlikely you'd want me to hear all the things you have to say about me. I can't imagine any are particularly kind."

"What does she see in him?" Cass asked as they walked outside. "Ugh, nevermind. I know the answer."

"Wow, thanks," Maria broke in. "Glad you think I'm that superficial." Leaning back on her palms, she was still sitting in the dirt. "Go on, yell," she said. "Call me stupid. I'm sure it's coming, let's just get it out of the way."

She didn't sound particularly worried. Arcade sat down. "Well, when you say it like that, all the fun goes out of things."

"Sorry," she said. "Your bad luck there. Second act to Vulpes Inculta in a bad mood. No one can live up to that shit." She shook her head. "Wow. I really never, ever want to go through _that_ again. No wonder people are scared of him."

Arcade snuck a glance at Cass before sitting near Maria. He was angry but… she was still his friend. His friend who happened to be about as worldly as a houseplant when it came to anything more nuanced than 'kill or be killed.'

"Does this happen often?" he asked, trying to check her exposed skin for any signs of bruising.

"Does what?" she looked confused. "Oh, the yelling?" She looked embarrassed. "You won't believe me, but that's actually the first time he's ever raised his voice at me. I do most of the yelling." Maria seemed to catch Arcade's attempt at a visual examination of her skin and made a face. "Stop that. If I look beat up it's because I killed three raiders yesterday. He isn't great with first impressions, but he's a good man."

That was just too much. "No," Arcade said, shaking his head to keep from laughing in her face. "He is not, by any standards, any metric, or any definition, a _good_ man. I'm willing to put aside enough common sense and reason to believe he might actually be good to _you_, but that doesn't make him a good _person_." She opened her mouth to speak and Arcade raised his brows, staring at her.

"Fine," Maria said after a long pause. "We aren't going to agree on this. You don't know him like I do."

"I can't believe you just said that," he told her. "And those exact words, no less. Wow. I'm _glad_ I don't. Hopefully I never will," he said. "I'd like to think I have better taste in men than fascist murderers. I would have _thought_ you did, too, but here we are…" Arcade stared at her, trying to see if she was lying. He glanced back at the building, no one was even watching from the windows. He didn't like how this was going. Maria didn't even seem to think she had done anything _wrong_, beyond sending letters that could be intercepted. "Let's just all go back," Arcade finally said. "If we have you with us… well, I'm sure we can come up with a decent story for the NCR. Leave this in the past, and go back to normal. I'm pretty good at making up elaborate lies, you know."

"Don't even ask," she said, shaking her head. "I'll figure out how to get you back but I'm not going. So let's just stop now." Maria said. "Look, I just want to know what happened. Are you all right? Did someone come after you?"

Arcade relayed what had happened. When Maria looked at Cass, the redhead shrugged. "I had nothing else going on," she said. "I wasn't going to let him go alone. You know how he is."

"What?" Looking over he narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean? How am I?"

"Just like that," she said, standing up. "Come on, I'm way too sober to listen to either of you bitching. Maria, I'll let you dig through the wagon. I've got plenty of food, and your pet psycho in there looks like he could use a few decent meals."

"Not me?" she laughed.

"You always do. Figured that went without saying."


	25. I Can Never Go Home Anymore

When they came in her friends seemed more depressed than angry, Vulpes took it as a good sign. It would have been easy for her to leave with them. They could always claim they rescued her, after all. No one would doubt it; it was a more realistic story than the truth.

"I'm gonna make some food," she announced. Her friends retreated to the far corner, as far from him as possible, speaking quietly. Circling him, Maria briefly trailed her hand across his shoulders, fingers slipping just below his collar when they reached the back of his neck. She wanted his attention. When he glanced up she smiled at him before tugging on the ends of his hair. "Can you dig out that hotplate? I think it's in your pack."

She winked and he knew that he had won. Well, as much as there had ever been a competition. In any case, she wanted him to know that, even after talking to her friends, she was staying.

It was almost enough to improve his mood. His anger was already more memory than reality, but it left an uneasy feeling behind. He couldn't stop questioning why he would even _consider_ forgiving such a monumental lapse in judgment. He had been more concerned about her leaving, if Vulpes was going to admit the truth. There was something deeply wrong with that.

He wasn't sure if this was something Mars would have wanted. It seemed unlikely at best. However, it also seemed that the gods' strange love for the courier continued unabated. Her friends had left New Vegas to seek her out. It was a fool's errand at best. The Mojave was enormous, finding one woman, particularly a woman constantly on the move specifically to make it more difficult for her to be found, should have been impossible. Yet here they were, after a journey so effortless Vulpes might as well have left them a string to follow.

_If I don't understand what I'm doing, I certainly can't pretend I'll ever understand what the Gods are doing. _

It might be worth contemplating later… but not today. He would need to distance himself more before he could really analyze the entire situation. Right now there were more important things Vulpes should be focused on. Maria would trust her friends without question. She was unfailingly loyal; he knew that. He wouldn't even complain, not when it was one of the qualities that he most admired about her. It just meant he would need to provide the critical eye she was lacking.

Realizing his uniform was clearly making them uncomfortable, Vulpes had quickly changed while they were outside. He had a pair of faded blue pants in his pack, the kind that had apparently been universally popular before the war, and an old shirt. The shirt was red. He was glad. He wanted them to be comfortable… but not too comfortable.

"So," the woman said, gesturing with a fork, "you probably have a lot of fun spy stories, right?"

He stared at her. "I suppose it depends on how unusual your definition of _fun _happens to be," he said. "I specialize in assassination and intimidation. Not many laughs on the job, I assure you." Trying not to roll his eyes, Vulpes took another bite. "Not for a _sane_ person, at least," he added after swallowing, speaking under his breath.

"Aw, come on," she said. "You _really_ expect me to believe you didn't spend lots of time in the casinos sweet talking folks and seducing the ladies?"

"No," Vulpes said. He could see where this was going. The woman didn't actually care about his answers, she just wanted to plant ideas in Maria's mind.

"Really?"

"No."

"You told _me_ you spent time in New Vegas," Maria spoke up, looking at him.

Apparently the Cassidy woman's plan was working.

"Not in the way _she's_ implying." He had sent men on such missions, of course, but Vulpes knew it wasn't for him. That sort of job require a degree of… anonymity. Someone forgettable, someone that could blend in. Average height, average coloring; a man someone could describe and have the listener think of any one of hundreds of people.

That was something he couldn't do… not while undressed at least.

"You really think I'll believe—"

Holding up a finger to cut her off, Vulpes stood. "I realize what you're implying," he said, "and I know _why_ you're so intent on planting these little seeds in Maria's mind. But I'm afraid your plan is flawed." Turning his back on them, Vulpes raised his shirt, exposing the skin of his back to the shoulders. "After all, how would I explain this?" he asked, hearing a woman's gasp and man's mutter before dropping the shirt and sitting once more. He wasn't ashamed of his scars, regardless of how they might have reacted. Vulpes was, to his knowledge, the only person to survive being scourged. The few people who hadn't been executed outright afterwards had died of infection. He wore his scars with pride… but they did limit his assignments to those that would allow him to keep a shirt on his back. Sure, he would occasionally wine and dine a cocktail waitress or chambermaid, but things never went much beyond that. And, to be frank, he had never really been suited for that kind of work in the first place.

"What happened to you?" the doctor asked. Surprisingly, he seemed to be genuinely concerned.

"Two leather lashes, strung with three caps each, forty six times. One for each conquered tribe."

"Forty six," he mumbled, considering that. "That had to be twenty years ago. How old _are_ you?"

"Younger than you, Doctor Gannon," Vulpes answered, remembering what Maria had said. It wasn't by _much_, but it was something.

"Touché," he said, almost looking relaxed. "Does it hurt?"

Cato snorted before he could answer. "_Does it hurt? _And this is a doctor?_"_

"It doesn't feel _good_," Vulpes said, "but I can tolerate it. Until recently I could say actually living through it was the most painful thing I'd experienced… but then I was shot in the head. That was a pain… well, a pain I couldn't even express with language. Perspective is a fascinating thing."

The dissolute pair seemed uncomfortable with his statement. They weren't looking at him, though- they were looking at Maria. She stared back at them, silent. After a drawn out pause she nodded.

They never actually asked, or she simply hadn't told them about what she had experienced. They knew she was shot, of course, but hadn't actually considered what that meant and what she had endured until he brought it up. He was reminded of the flippant way people in the NCR seemed to share that bit of information. _You know the courier was shot in the head_, he had heard more than one say, in the same tone they might have said _the courier has black hair_.

Vulpes had been acting under the assumption that these people knew Maria better than he did, better than he ever could. With a start he realized that likely wasn't the case at all.

* * *

_Fuck._

It had been going so well.

No, that was a lie. It had been going _better than expected_, but that wasn't saying very much. _This could be so much worse_, was exactly what Maria reminded herself not even moments before. No one was bleeding. That was something to celebrate. There had been no drawn weapons, no threats. Just, well… it wasn't _bickering_. Not outright. It was Cass trying to catch Vulpes in lies, or make Maria picture him with countless New Vegas women. She was trying to turn Maria against him, and likely thought it was very subtle.

It wasn't.

At the same time, Vulpes and Cato were asking how Arcade and Cass could support a group as corrupt and hypocritical as the NCR…. Nevermind that neither actually _supported_ the NCR, now or then. They both hoped Maria would kick them to the curb. Something she had considered… for about twenty seconds. Realizing no one in New Vegas seemed capable of wiping their own asses without asking her to help, she figured independence wasn't likely the best plan. It would just end up a dictatorship under Maria.

But, for those two, it was either Legion or NCR, and no in between. They couldn't fathom _not_ wanting to be allied with one of the two. It was the reason Vulpes had made snide comments about "_your NCR"_ to Maria… despite knowing her entire history with the group.

Listening to the back and forth, she suddenly realized how Vulpes must have felt when she argued with Cato.

"What _I_ don't understand," Cass said, "is how either of _you_ can support the Legion. You weren't born to that life. I can hear the tribal in his fucking voice." Pointing at Cato, she added "he's got an accent like my mother. You can't tell me having the Legion show up and take you away was a good thing_._"

"Being civilized and literate seems a rather fair trade off," Vulpes said with exaggerated nonchalance.

"That's what your mother's freedom was worth? I guess Maria should be grateful you already know how to read."

For a moment she was sure Vulpes would kill Cass… or try to. She tensed, getting ready to hold him back if things came to that.

Instead, he said "this conversation has ended," before standing and walking out.

"Was that at all necessary?"

"I think so," she said. "He sounds like he practically opened the gate for them when they got to your village."

Cato cleared his throat. "I do _hate_ to ruin a good baseless assumption," he said, "but I should probably point out that, when the Legion came for our tribe, I found my brother covered in blood, staring at our father's head on a spike. He was _six. _So if we _had_ a gate, I doubt he would have been tall enough to reach it." Cass looked away. "Yeah, that's what I figured."

Maria looked from Cato to Cassidy. Neither said anything, they had resumed glaring at each other. Arcade looked lost in thought. "I'll be back," she announced to the people who clearly didn't care, before walking outside.

She found Vulpes around the side of the building, back to the wall. "You want to talk about whatever's bugging you?"

Vulpes looked over, visibly annoyed. "Do you _think_ I want to talk about it?"

"No," Maria said. "But I think you'll tell me anyways."

"Did it ever occur to you that I left because I wanted to be alone?" He was staring forward, expression angry.

"Yes," Maria conceded, sitting beside him. "But I also suspected you were going to gut Cass alive when she mentioned your mother. So I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"Were you worried I would stumble face first into a deathclaw?"

She moved closer, setting a hand on his knee. "Vulpes, being uninjured isn't the only kind of being all right."

"Please spare me," he said, brushing her aside. "What are the odds of you leaving me alone?"

"Oh, not a bet you should take," she said. "Trust me, I own a casino."

"Fine," he sneered. "I suppose there's no way around this if I want any peace in my lifetime. Let me tell you _all_ about that day. It's a _fantastic_ story." He had been holding an empty glass bottle, the caramel liquid long gone, and pitched it aside. It shattered against a rock. "When the Legion arrived, my mother heard the shouts and saw them. She picked me up and ran, hiding in a cave. She told me she loved me, that she would never let anyone hurt me, and kissed my forehead. Then my mother turned me around so my back was to her, and she put a knife to my throat." Maria drew in a sharp breath, but said nothing when she saw Vulpes' eyes narrowed at the noise. "She started to cut, and I screamed. I tried to get away but couldn't, she was too strong. So I bit her arm until she dropped the knife, and I ran away."

Maria tried to put her arms around him, not knowing what else to do.

"Stop that," Vulpes said, shrugging her off. "You wanted to know. I'm telling you. I'm not done yet." She released him and, after a moment, grabbed his hand. Vulpes didn't object. "I was so scared that I ran straight into a legionary. He looked at me, called me a _tough little bastard_, and picked me up under his arm. When my mother came chasing after me, still carrying the knife, he looked at another man and said _take care of her, would you?"_ He took a breath, no longer sounding angry. "After the Malpais Legate shot my mother, Caesar carried me to the center of the village and dropped me on the ground with the other boys who were to be taken away. I landed on my face in the dirt. When I got up, I was right below my father's severed head. Cato got there not long after. He told me what happened while he stared at our father's severed head and tried not to cry." He sounded more thoughtful now. "We never got along, but I still felt bad for him. I thought he had the right to grieve, although I didn't know the word at the time. His mother had died protecting him, and took out a legionary in the process. Mine died trying to kill _me_. I couldn't cry for her." He took a long unsteady breath. "Now you know," Vulpes said. "I've never told anyone that. Not even Cato."

When she grabbed his hand, Vulpes' fingers were limp. Now, she could feel the bones of her fingers grinding in protest at the strength of his grip. "Vulpes," she said, picking her words carefully, "I don't think your mother _wanted_ to hurt you. She thought she was saving you from something worse than death."

"Is that what I am now?" he asked bitterly. "Worse than dead?"

"She didn't _know_," Maria said. "It was a long time ago. She didn't know what they would do with you, how _could_ she? They were an invading tribe to her. For all she knew they were cannibals or chem freaks."

Smiling sadly, Vulpes put his free hand on her face, turning her towards him. "The way you say that almost makes me believe it to be true," he said, kissing her cheek. "But the truth remains, that ignorant tribal wench who bore me pulled me into a cave and began to slit my throat without even waiting for the defenders of our village to die. My father still lived; I could see him as she carried me off."

Maria didn't argue. It wasn't the man she was reasoning with; it was the angry, betrayed little boy. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I… I am _so_ sorry that happened to you. You didn't deserve that."

"Sometimes I wonder, you know. I ask myself, am I such a monster?" he asked, finally looking over at her. "Is what I became so horrible that _my own mother_ would have rather seen me dead on a cave floor?" Vulpes was looking past her again. "I don't see myself as a monster. I've always been true to my lord and my gods. I've never beaten a mistress. I discouraged rape and abuse of prisoners by the men under my command. I never tortured without cause. I work to keep my brother safe. But then…" he paused, seeing her once more. "Then I see the way your friends look at me, the way you once looked at me. Not as an enemy, not as an adversary. As a monster. A _thing_. And I wonder if she was right."

"No," Maria said. "I was afraid of you. I'll admit that. I was terrified, not just of you but… of what I'd managed to get myself into. But I never thought you were a monster." He was calmly watching her, blue eyes unreadable. "If I thought you were a monster, I never would have pulled you from that barn. I wouldn't have dragged you across the yard, into the house, and down the stairs. I wouldn't have spent hours picking tiny bits of metal out of you, stitching you up, and watching to make sure you woke." She released his hand, resisting the urge to clench and unclench a fist to ease away the crushing pain. Maria shifted instead, wrapping an arm around his waist, laying her legs over his. "I know you think I'm impulsive, but really… that's giving me an _awful_ lot of time to go without reconsidering what I was doing. I'm not br—"

"What?"

She laughed, but quickly covering her mouth.

"_What_, Maria?" he asked again.

"I was going to say _I'm not brain damaged_ but…"

He stared at her for a second, mouth open. After what seemed to be a failed attempt at replying, Vulpes started laughing as well. "I suppose," he said, struggling to regain control and wiping tears from his eyes between more bursts of laughter, "I suppose that makes for two of us."

After a moment he put an arm around her. "So," Vulpes said, "what _are_ we going to do with our new arrivals?"

"I've got a plan," Maria said. "They're not going to be happy on the road, and they won't want to help you. But I think I have a way that will let them go back to New Vegas safely." She shrugged. "It won't do wonders for _my_ reputation out there, and will make it pretty much impossible for _me _to ever go back, but I wasn't really planning on that anyways. We're going to have to wait until we get to The Fort, though." Vulpes looked curious, so Maria began to tell him what she had in mind.

* * *

_Thanks so much for reading and reviewing! If you're following my Elder Scrolls fic, sorry for the false-alarm chapter a few days ago. Someone, not naming names but I do live alone, accidentally saved over chapter 5 with a draft of chapter 4. I've got to rewrite the entire thing, it should be done in a day or two._


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